God's Gift of Hope
by elleuu2Y5
Summary: Sam head-butted his brother and Dean went down hard, losing his blade in the process. Sam raised his own blade up into the air, ready to drive it down into Dean's chest. As the blade reached the top of its arc, and as Sam started to bring the blade back down for the fatal strike, there was a loud cracking noise and Sam crumbled... Preview for "The After You" now included...
1. Chapter 1

_**This is the SECOND story, in a short series - It comes after: Hymn to the Missing - if you haven't read it - you might like to, given that it sets this one up - but you don't have too.**_

 _ **The rest of this story (all 30 chapters of it) will be up before Christmas - follow if you like to get alerts - or not... No worries...**_

 ** _Hope you enjoy this..._**

* * *

 _ **Then**_ …

The boy lay in the middle of the room. He was seven, maybe eight years old. The room was much older. It was a sitting room and not the kind you bring company over to see. There was an eclectic mess cluttering the space.

A large leather-covered desk that had seen better days; a few single sofa chairs; a lamp or two. The sun came in through the dirty window and had dust mites bouncing on its beam. There were books… everywhere… and old pieces of paper, maps and hundreds of weird trinkets.

Yet none of this held the interest of the boy. He just lay there looking up at the ceiling, as if he were gazing at a sky full of white clouds.

"And what is that over there?" the boy asked as he pointed towards the corner of the room. He listened intently to the explanation that ensued, but there was nobody in the room with him.

The boy nattered on like this for a while. Asking questions, clearly hearing replies. He seemed to be discussing cloud patterns; sometimes he answered questions, even though nobody had seemed to ask him anything.

A man watched from the doorway to the next room. Concern masked on his face. After listening to this strange, one-sided conversation, he turned and walked to the phone mounted on the wall of the kitchen.

He dialled slowly and after placing the call, he left a simple message "Have him call me. ASAP."

The man sat waiting, beer in hand, at the table in the kitchen. The table was old, like the other furniture in the house, with mismatched chairs, whose covers were aged and splitting in more than one place.

Dust mites danced on the sunbeams in this room too; silence bounced around the room.

The shrill bell of the phone made the man jump. He moved over quickly, to pick it up.

"Hello?" There was a pause as the man listened to the voice on the other end, "I think you had better be heading back. The boy is not right. He is just lying there talking to himself or something else… If you catch my drift?" More silence, more listening, "Idjit!" the man said with a slow drawl, "if he is talking to a ghost, you would think I would know about it… I am telling you, John, something is not right with him. It is like he is…" he stopped short, not knowing how to explain it properly, "somewhere else, with someone else, in his mind… but his body is here…" This was his best attempt at explaining, but it did not sit well with him, "I don't know how to tell you better. Get back here and help him." the man demanded.

He stood silently, listening to the voice on the other end and suddenly he dumped the phone back on its hook, saying as he did so, "Thanks for nothing… You idjit".

The man wandered back to the sitting room. He watched the boy as he continued his conversation with the invisible voice. Deliberately, so the boy would hear, the man cleared his throat.

"I have to go…" the boy whispered to nobody, he blinked his eyes several times as he added, "I am sorry…"

"Dean…" The man said aloud to the boy, "Go get your brother. It is time to get ready for dinner."

"Yes, Uncle Bobby." the boy said as he rolled over, rose to his feet and headed out of the room.

 _ **Now**_ …

The glass slipped from Dean's hand. It bounced, rather than smashed, as it hit the edge of the carpet, making a loud thud, and rumble, as it rolled from the carpet across the floorboards.

"Cass…" Dean began, but he could not continue. Sam rose from the chair, walking over to Castiel and Dean, who were near the door.

"Castiel?" Sam asked, "What are you saying?"

"You found her! You found Hope. I thought I was clear?" came Castiel's puzzled reply.

"Cass… That is not Hope!" Sam motioned to the girl on the bed, "That girl's name is Chayse. She is a reason we rang you… She needs your help." Sam was trying desperately to diffuse the situation, Castiel believing the boys had found Hope and Dean's stunned silence, at Castiel's wrong conclusion.

"I don't know why she said her name was Chayse, but I am telling you… That girl… Lying on the bed… Is Hope!" as Castiel said this he made to move toward the girl, but Dean shifted to stand in his way.

"You are wrong. Why would she use a different name? She has no reason to." Dean's voice was strained; he was struggling. He wanted to believe what Castiel was saying, but if he were wrong then Dean feared that he would lose it. The search, and continually coming up empty, had taken its toll on Dean and he was beginning to feel lost or worse, useless.

Worse still. What if Castiel was right and this was Hope? What a life she had been forced to live. Tears sprung to Dean's eyes, as a sadness swelled up in his heart. This girl had suffered. Having hellhounds, hunting and killing anyone who had helped her. He remembered now, how rude she had been when he had tried to return that jacket to her. Rude… because that might stop him from trying to help her, which in turn might save him from being the next dead person, for which she was responsible.

No… He shook his head as he stood there thinking it through… He did not want this to be Hope. For that to be his sister's burden was unbearable to him. Yet somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew Castiel was right; had known the minute he saw Castiel lay eyes on her.

"Dean…" Castiel pleaded, "It is Hope. I was there from the day she was born, to just after her eighteenth birthday. I would know her anywhere… I do not know why she is using another name… but it is her… It is Hope." Castiel had hold of Dean's shoulders, as he looked into his eyes, pleading with Dean to believe him.

Dean shrugged him off and made for the door. He rushed out into the cold night air, and leaning over the edge of the small porch; he threw up. Retching, repeatedly, broken by what little he knew of Hope's life, of Hope's burden.

* * *

 **More on the way - l Follow it, for alerts... if you like... (up before Christmas - I promise)**


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had followed Dean out to the porch but had stopped short when he saw Dean throwing up. Sam had never seen Dean affected in this way, not by anything that had come at them in all of their hunting years and growing up before that.

Castiel followed Sam out, quietly closing the door behind him so as not to wake Hope. Dean was leaning on the bannister, breathing deeply. Castiel moved towards him, "Dean…" he started.

"I am fine…" Dean looked up at the sky as he said this, taking in a deep breath, which he held. Eventually, Dean closed his eyes and biting his lower lip he brought his head back down, shoulders drooping, his face creased in a look of anguish and sheer exhaustion.

Dean exhaled, released his lower lip and repeated, "I am fine…" as he opened his eyes again.

Nobody moved.

The quiet was absolute.

Sam did not know what to say or do; Castiel seemed to have no direction.

The three of them just stood there.


	3. Chapter 3

"How long has it been?" Castiel asked the boys.

"A little over three hours now..." Sam replied as he checked his watch. The boys had caught Castiel up-to-date with everything they knew about Chayse, a.k.a. Hope, and the hellhounds that seemed hell-bent on killing anybody who tried to help her. They had also told Castiel about Pete Montana's stories of the 'hunter saviour'.

Most interestingly, Dean had rung Pete to ask him about the latest story he had received from another hunter; it seemed it had slipped Pete's mind, that there had been a different hairstyle, Dean was flabbergasted.

Castiel seemed most interested in the stories, of the hunter saviour, fully believing that this was indeed something that Hope would have done. He knew that Hope had trained in fighting and weaponry, growing up with the various hunters she had had as foster parents.

Castiel had no idea how or who would have put the hellhounds onto her. His only thought was that somebody needed her guarded. It was possible given her upbringing, that she had become valuable in some way, to a high-level Demon who could control hellhounds.

"How long does it take until the next hellhound comes?" Castiel was asking.

"No idea. She passed out before she gave us any real details. Speaking of which, maybe you could, oh I do not know… heal her?" Dean sounded surly as he spoke to Castiel. It had been a huge night, after an already too long couple of days, driving around the country, and Dean was sore and tired. Worse still, his sister was lying, mere feet away from him, in a world of pain, worried because some hound was going to come for Dean. Again.

"No..." Castiel stated.

"No! What do you mean no?" Dean faced up to Castiel ready to take his head off, the tone he used suggested he wanted to.

"No. I will heal her when she says I can. I will not take the choice away from her." Castiel was trying to back away from Dean as he spoke.

"Okay, Okay… Just cool down…" Sam was trying to bring calm back to the porch, "We are both really tired…" he said looking at Dean as he spoke, "and it has been a really, long night. So let's not do anything right now, that we will regret later…" Sam finished up with a pleading look on his face, eyes wide, and hands gesturing for an okay from Dean.

For his part, Dean merely nodded and turned walking over to the other side of the porch. He knew Sam was right, and he knew he was not mad at Castiel. Dean was stressing, over what had happened and what was going to happen when the girl lying on…

There was a loud thud from inside the cabin. Dean made it to the door first. He threw it open and saw Hope. She was lying on the floor, halfway between the bed and the kitchenette. Dean rushed over to her.

Hope was struggling to get back up when Dean reached her. He held her gently by the shoulders and then reaching one arm down to her waist, he helped her up, saying, "Let us get you back to bed…" Dean carefully helped Hope back to the bed, where she gingerly sat on its edge.

"What were you doing?" Dean asked her.

"I just wanted some water." Came the softly spoken reply. At hearing this, Sam walked over to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, which he then took over to Dean.

Dean passed the water to Hope, but her hands were trembling as she tried to take a drink. So instead, Dean held the glass for her.

After a couple of sips, Hope motioned that, she had had enough and Dean put the glass on the small bedside table.

"How long?" she asked.

"Nearly 4 hours…" Dean started; somehow, he knew exactly what Hope was asking about, the hellhounds, "Maybe they are not coming?" Dean sincerely hoped this might be true.

"They always come… Sometimes straightaway… Sometimes later…" Hope's voice was deadpan, as she merely stated the facts.

"Wait… so… they come, even if no one has helped you. I thought they only hurt people who helped you?" Dean exclaimed puzzled by what Hope had said.

"They do… Only hurt people who help me, but they are always there… Never far away…" there did not seem to be any emotion in Hope's voice as she spoke, the whole thing was just normal for her.

"So… what is the longest time that they had not been with you? I mean… Is four hours unusual?" Dean asked.

"Thirty-two hours…" she stated, "Once they were gone, for thirty-two hours. That was to replace the one I killed." Hope said it in such a matter of fact way, that Dean had the blink the shock off his face.

"And how many have you killed? Other than the one tonight…" Dean did not really want to know the answer but then again he had to.

"Six."

"Wow…" Dean let out the breath he had been holding while waiting for her answer. His sister was badass…

Hope started to cough; the effort bought fresh pain and distress to her face. Dean tried to support her, as she sat on the bed. He glanced over at Castiel and gave him a look that asked how he could just stand there, and let her suffer.

When the coughing subsided, Dean helped Hope to sit back up on the bed so that the bed's backboard and pillows supported her; she looked more comfortable but was still obviously in quite some pain.

Dean began, "Um… I called a friend while you were unconscious…" the look of fear and panic on Hope's face had Dean backpedalling fast, "it is okay, it is okay… He is cool. He understands these things… It is okay." Dean repeated this several times until Hope finally seemed to calm, "It is just… I knew he could help in a few ways. One of which is, he can heal you."

"He is a doctor?" Hope asked, looking up at Dean from her position on the bed.

"Of sorts…" was all Dean could think to say, "you see… He actually knows you. I mean… you have met before…" Hope looked confused as Dean was stumbling over his words, but just as Dean finished speaking she saw a face appear over his shoulder, and the confusion turned to surprise, then shock and finally despair, as her mind registered who it was…

"Castiel?" surprise

"but…" shock

"you are dead…" despair.


	4. Chapter 4

"Why did you tell us your name was Chayse?"

"What?"

"Why call yourself Chayse? You told us your name was Chayse, not Hope. Why?" It was Sam speaking to Hope. He was trying to distract her, because she had started to get very distressed at seeing Castiel, alive.

Dean had tried to calm her to no avail, but Sam now had her full attention. Hope was looking at Sam, confused but somewhat focused on what he had asked, "Because…" she began, "because…" It seemed that Hope was trying to make up her own mind on the reason for her other name. Finally, she settled on an answer, "Because it did not feel like there was any more hope."

Dean closed his eyes at hearing this and let out a quiet sigh. He did not want Hope to register the pain her admission caused him. Castiel moved back towards her, as Sam sighed heavily. All was quiet as they took in what Hope meant.

Dean broke the silence, "So… Chayse, was because you were being… chased?" All hope did in reply, was nod. Sam's head tilted and his eyes widened, ever so slightly, as he registered how easily Dean understood and could read what Hope was, or had been thinking.

"It is me. I am Castiel. I am not dead." Castiel finally spoke into the silence, as he inched towards Hope, "Tell me, why you thought I was dead?"

"That is what he told me…"

"Who? Who told you? I do not understand…" Castiel was upset; this was clear and somewhat alarming to both Dean and Sam, who had very rarely seen Castiel this way.

"Easy Cass…" Dean urged Castiel and then, turning back to Hope, he added, "It is okay. It really is Cass, I mean… Castiel. I swear… Please tell us what happened to you?"

"A man came to see me. He told me he must show me my destiny. I thought he was crazy, but he kept insisting that I go with him on a trip. I did not want to, but he was… He…" Hope paused, not sure how to phrase it, "He was… forceful. Castiel did not suddenly turn up, so I thought I must be safe." Hope looked over at Castiel as she said this, and Castiel, looking desperately sad, shook his head in guilt.

"You see… Castiel was always there when I was in trouble. So without him, I thought… But I was wrong. We drove all day. At some point, I decided that I did not want to be there and asked the man to let me out of the car. He refused, so I told him that my friend would come and he would regret it. The man just replied 'Castiel is dead!' The man used your name…" Hope stressed this, looking up at Castiel, "He used your name… And I never told him that… At first, I did not believe him. I thought that you couldn't find me because we were driving." Hope was only talking to Castiel now, Dean and Sam watching on in silence, "The man stopped late in the night, to sleep. I thought, now that we have stopped, you would come… But you didn't…"

Dean could barely look at Hope; he did not want to know what had happened and yet he could not stop listening.

"I must have fallen asleep because it was much later when I heard the noise. The man was not in the car, so I got out and went to find him. There was a loud noise, beside me in the forest, and when I turned to look, I saw the man go flying through the air. He was screaming and his blood was everywhere and something was attacking him… but I could not see what it was. There was a loud snap, I think it was the man's neck, and he suddenly fell to the ground, and did not move again." Hope's voice was getting softer and softer as she recalled that terrifying night.

"I screamed and ran back to the car. The thing was following me, I could tell. I made it into the car and drove. I just kept driving until there was no more petrol and then I started running. I ran until I was too tired to run anymore. I found a place to hide. It was maybe two or three hours before I heard it. The thing from the forest. I wanted to run, but I just had nothing left, so instead, I waited to die…" Hope paused, her breathing laboured from the pain of her injuries, and from talking for so long. After a few seconds, she continued, "But it never came to me. It just… Waited… and watched…"

All three boys were in various states of anguish, hanging on her every word. Eventually, Hope finished her story, "Two more people were killed before… before…" Hope sighed unable to say it.

"Before you realised it was killing the people who helped you?" Dean, whispering, finished Hope's sentence.

Hope nodded. She turned to look up at Dean, through tears that drowned her big hazel eyes. As he watched, Hope closed her eyes and the tears spilt over the edge and cascaded down her face.

Dean did not know what to do or say. He started to stand but was quick to sit back down as Hope started coughing violently, blood coated her lips and spreading across her hands as she reached up to cover her mouth.

"Cass…" Dean pleaded for his friend to help her and before Castiel could respond, Dean remembered Castiel's earlier request.

"Castiel can help you, Hope. He can heal you… Please let him help you…" Dean was pleading with Hope now. She continued to cough while Dean supported her. Soon the coughing lessened and her breathing finally calmed. Dean repeated into the relative quiet, "Castiel can heal you. Will you let him?"

"Heal me?" Hope gasped.

"Yes… He is an angel." Sam was talking now because Dean was too busy looking at Castiel, almost accusing him of letting Hope suffer. Even though Dean did not say anything, Castiel appeared to receive the message loud and clear, but still, he stood resolute in his decision, that he would not help, unless Hope said okay.

"An angel?" breathed Hope, first looking at Sam, then Dean and finally Castiel, waiting for an answer.

"Yes… An angel. As in Angels and Demons. Castiel is from heaven, he can do cool things… Like… Heal… You…" Dean emphasised those last three words, he was growing impatient and worried that Hope's injuries were getting worse and he did not want her to suffer anymore; it was as if Dean could feel her pain and he needed it to stop.

Hope still looked rather confused, so Sam decided to have a go at explaining it, for her, "It is true. He is an angel. He has healed Dean and me lots of time. It does not hurt. In fact…" Sam motioned that Castiel should heal Dean's injuries now, to show Hope that it was okay.

Dean, realising what Sam was getting at, turned slightly to face Castiel who obligingly put his thumb and first two fingers on Dean's forehead, and healed him.

Hope looked stunned at seeing the injuries just disappear like that, but in the amazement was also a new fear. Fear of Castiel; Castiel could sense it immediately and he froze, panicked that Hope was now afraid of him.

Dean has a stunned look on his face, he had no idea what had just happened but he could feel that Hope was frightened. Sam realised quickly, that Hope might think of Castiel as the enemy, a supernatural enemy that she might ordinarily fight against; he walked across in front of the bed to stand behind Castiel, his hand rising up to rest on Castiel's shoulder.

"Hope. It is okay. He is on our side. He just wants to help. We all want you to be better, to heal. Your injuries are serious, you most likely have internal bleeding, and Castiel can do something about that…" Sam pleaded with Hope.

Hope spoke quietly, "But if he is an angel, then why didn't he come for me? Why did he leave me… all this time if he could help? Why did all those people die?" Hope sighed, unable to go on. Her tears dried up; as spent as she was.

"Hope…" Castiel began, "I could not find you. I came when Melinda and Maxwell were hurt, but I was too late to help." Melinda and Maxwell were Hope's last foster parents. They were a very stable couple, who only hunted supernatural beings that threatened their way of life; unlike Sam and Dean, Melinda and Maxwell did not travel to find threats, they took care of only what stumbled onto their path and this had made them an ideal couple to look after Hope.

"I looked for you," Castiel continued, "but I could not find you. We were connected, you and I, and I should have been able to find you, anywhere on earth, but I could not. I thought… that you were dead… because I could not find you." Had Castiel been capable of tears, they would have been streaming down his face. As it were, the humanity within the angel was never more visible, and the boys had no doubt as to his sincerity; how much he had loved and cared for their sister.

"It is my fault…" Hope declared in a whisper.

"What?" All three boys blurted together. Castiel continued alone, "It is not your fault Hope. How can you say that?"

"I left… I went away with that man and you could not find me." Hope's logic was sound, but she did not yet realise the power of Angels.

"No, Hope. I could have found you anywhere. Someone else stopped me from finding you. It is not your fault." Castiel was kneeling beside Hope, as she started to cough again, not as hard as before, but still…

"Please let me heal you?" Castiel begged. Hope nodded between the coughing and struggling for breath. Castiel used his powers again to heal Hope. After a second, a sudden awareness crept into Hope's face and upon seeing it, Castiel faltered, his fingers slipping away from Hope's forehead, but he regained control and while his face registered shock, he managed to finish healing Hope. While she just stared at Castiel, a certain sadness illuminated in her eyes.

Dean was perplexed, not sure, what had just happened between Castiel and Hope but he let the thought slide as Castiel dropped his hand; Hope was healed.

"How do you feel?" Dean asked holding his breath, waiting for her reply.

Dean sighed loudly after Hope declared, "I am good. I feel… good!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Um… What are you doing?" Dean asked Hope; Hope was currently walking across the room towards the door of the cabin. It was morning now, ten hours since the attack. Sam had driven into town for food, while Castiel was attempting to find some information about the hellhounds.

Hope was now dressed in a pair of Dean's old jeans, which were several sizes too big for her. She had no choice though, given the state of her old pair, ripped and covered in blood. The shirt she was wearing had a Superman symbol on it, Sam had donated it years ago to the pile of cleaning rags in the back of the Impala, but luckily neither boy had ever used it and it was still in a good condition.

"I am leaving..." Hope said as she opened the door. She stepped through it not looking back at Dean, who had a desperate look on his face as he scrambled to understand what had happened.

Dean ran after Hope, "You are what? We had a deal. And… this was not the deal!" Dean stopped walking as he hit the edge of the small porch. He was now standing at the top of the small set of stairs that led down to the path, and away to the carpark.

Hope had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a few steps along the path. In the distance, a car door slammed.

Hope turned slowly and looked up at Dean, "The deal is not needed," she explained as she let out a long breath, "You do not need me to stay, and if anything…" she paused thinking carefully about what she said next, "You are better off without me."

Before Hope could turn away, Dean returned fire, "That is not… how deals work! You do not just, back out on them," Dean had a bit of a flashback moment then, thinking how his mother, Mary, had tried to back out of a certain deal; and how well that had worked out. Thankfully, this was not that… Dean's mind raced, thinking of how to tell Hope who she was, to him, to Sam; but would that make her stay? Dean's heartbeat faltered at the thought of losing Hope now, so soon after they had found her. What was he supposed to do?

"I know that… But you do not need me," Hope was acknowledging that she was backing out of a deal, but she was desperate not to cause these two boys any more problems, or worse have one of them die because of her.

Sam was walking up behind Hope as she spoke; he was confused as he tried to read, unsuccessfully, what was happening, in the myriad of emotions that were crossing Dean's face.

"You are a Hunter. Sam is a Hunter. You have a friend who can heal you, if, or when you get hurt. You do not need me. It is much better… if I leave." Sam understood what was happening now, as he stopped suddenly, just behind Hope, when he heard her last statement.

"How's that?" Dean was pushing to have Hope explain herself, while he frantically tried to work out, what to do or say to have her stay. Tell her, don't tell her; Dean had no idea if the truth would help or hinder this situation. He wanted her to know. He needed, her to know, but what if, that pushed her away. Would, he risk that?

Hope sighed, "If I'm gone… then you won't feel compelled to help me again… after another fight… and then… you will be free of this… of this curse…"

"But you won't be!" Sam pointed out to her. Hope jumped a little, having not heard Sam arrive, "You won't be, any better off; still running, never able to be around others." He finished.

"We can help you!" Dean added.

"And get yourself killed trying to do that!" Hope countered before the boys could speak, she added: "I have made up my mind, this is, the best solution."

"We'll just follow you…" Dean was willing to try anything, at this point, to have her stay. Hope scoffed, shaking her head, clearly furious at Dean's decision.

"Why? Why do you want to die?" she pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes again.

Dean walked down two steps and stopped, "Not die! Live, and help you live. This is what we do. Saving people, hunting things. The family business… and we want to help you!"

"I don't want your help…" Hope stressed, the sadness in her voice, mirroring the sadness on her face, as she asked, "Do you know how many people have died because of me? Do, you? Twenty-One… and I don't want it to be twenty-three…"

Hope started to turn, to walk away, but Dean's next words made her freeze, "Three hundred and fifteen… Three hundred… and fifteen… That is how many people are alive, because of you… three… hundred… and fifteen…" Dean emphasised each of these last syllables, punching each one out, "Hunters… alive… because of you… And that is just the ones we know about…"

What Dean was saying, confused Hope. Not the numbers, she knew what they meant, she knew her count and he was close.

No.

She was confused because he knew.

How did he know?

Hope was looking at Dean as if she wanted to read his mind and find out; how, did they know what she had done?

Hope shook her head, "It doesn't matter." She wanted to go on, but Sam cut her off, "Does not matter… Of course, it matters. They are alive because of you. Do not think for a minute either, that any of them would say it does not matter because it does…" Sam was upset that Hope thought so little of what she had done; he could not believe that for some reason, she seemed to think that she was not worth worrying about. Sam continued, "Every single one of them would do anything, and everything to help you. To do what we want to do. What we have the opportunity to do… You save others. Do you not think that you have the right to be saved? That we have the right to save you?"

Dean was nodding his head, as he took two more steps towards Hope, agreeing with everything his brother had said.

Hope stood transfixed; she was not used to people wanting to help her. Now she was not sure how to proceed, so she did what she was good at, what she had perfected over the last twenty years, she tried to push them away.

"No. I am not worth it. You do not need to die, to help me. Just let me be. Don't follow me, please, let me go." Hope pleaded with the boys.

"We can't do that, we don't want to… and, we won't…" Sam's chose his words carefully, trying to show some finality.

"It is not your choice to make. I don't want your help." Hope paused after each word trying to convey exactly what she felt. To let these boys know that she did not want this, "Please… Just let it go…" and with those final words she spun on the spot, and started walking down the path.

"We can't…" Dean called after her, he took one more step; he was now standing on the path as he continued to speak to Hope. This was it, he realised. She was walking away from him and he could not have that. His heart was already breaking; he had to let her know, now or never.

His next words were not that loud, but in that cool, crisp air, they were certainly very clear, "We are your brothers…"

And, with those four words,

for these three people,

the world stopped.


	6. Chapter 6

A heart beating.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

The world was spinning.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Spinning fast, spinning slow. Spinning.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

A white moth fluttered past and rose high on a crisp breeze.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

The same crisp air snapped, as an icicle finally gave up its grasp and fell sharply to the ground. A bird, called for its friend, in the distance. Everything was still; everything was spinning, all at the same time.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Dean focussed on his breathing, watching Hope to see what her next move would be. He was relieved. Relieved that she knew. He was also terrified. Terrified that knowing would not change her decision. What would he do then? What could he do?

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Sam, a single tear rolling slowly down his face, leaving a single trail. Sam wanted to take the three steps between him and Hope and envelope her in a hug. He wanted to make her feel like she deserved to live her life. He wanted her to feel, and know the love he already had in his heart, for her.

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Hope's slow breath made mesmerising clouds in the air in front of her. Eyes closed tightly, trying to block out everything; every little thought and feeling that was rushing into her mind, and pulsating through her body. 'They are my brothers… I have brothers?' She tried desperately to focus on her breathing.

In… Out…

In… Out…

Her mind repeated the mantra, over… and over.

In… Out…

In…

Out…

Thump.

Thump-thump.

Slowly, like the opening of the morning flower, the world began to move again.

First, Dean took a few steps toward Hope, and then Sam, taking just one-step. Both boys stopping sharply, as Hope, finally turning around, faced her brothers.

Nobody knew how to act.

What to say.

Hope looked, from Dean to Sam and back again; she could see the resemblance now. She could see them, these boys, her brothers, in her, but this was not calming. No… This just served to upset her even more. Hope tried to speak, but there were no words. None, anyway, that would convey what she wanted right now because she wanted two things. Two things that were complete opposites.

Hope wanted to know these two boys. She wanted… still wanted, after all these years, to have a family and here they were – standing in front of her, having just told her, that they belonged to her and she belonged to them. That they wanted to help her.

On the other hand, they had to be safe. She had to keep them safe, and that would never be the case if they stayed with her.

Hope had to leave; she knew that. How could she bring her burden into their life? How could she put them in danger? Nevertheless, this would be the single hardest thing she had ever had to do, in her entire life.

"I don't believe you!" Hope whispered, into the still air. Hope knew it was a lie; she did, she did believe him, she wanted to yell at them, run to them each, and hold them, never letting go. Her words spoke one truth, while every inch of her true essence was screaming out to these boys, 'Don't let me go. Please don't let me go'.

"Sure you do…" Dean responded so quickly; there was no hesitation now, he was quick to shut her down, feeling an urgency to have her hear what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He tilted his head to one side, as he walked towards her, "It fits… It explains… everything. Never, in a million years, would I have grabbed some dude's jacket and chased him outside to return it, but this time… this time… I just had to… I didn't know it then, but something was drawing me to you… I knew though, the minute I saw Castiel's face, when he laid eyes on you, that you were our sister… My twin…"

A sharp intake of breath from Hope, let Dean know Hope understood everything he was feeling, that she had been feeling too, he continued, "We have been looking for you for weeks, ever since we found out about you, and the last thing… the last thing we are going to do right now… is let you walk away from us. Let the hellhound come, we will be ready for it. We are family, and in a Winchester family, that means, we stick together and we do whatever, and I mean whatever it takes, to look after each other. If there is one thing Sammy and I have learned, in all of the years we have been going after evil, it is that…"

Sam finished off Dean's sentence, "Family… Don't handle it alone!"

Hope didn't move. That word. Family. It scared her, and yet it made her heart sing. Family. These boys are my family. 'After twenty years running, I'm standing in front of family. My family...' she thought. The thought brought so much emotion. Happiness and freedom; while at the same time it brought sadness and pain. Amidst all these feelings, panic and confusion started to overwhelm Hope from all angles. Dean sensing, or feeling the change in Hope made the final few steps to her and grabbed her, holding her tightly in a hug; he was holding her together, keeping her world from spinning out of control, from falling apart. Most importantly, and he knew it, he was holding her there, keeping her from running.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Spoiler alert - if you haven't seen the end of Season 11 and Season 12..._**

* * *

"Wait…" Hope stopped Sam. Sam and Hope were sitting on one of the double beds, in the cabin. Sam had been trying to tell the story of how the boys heard about, and consequently found Hope. Interspersed throughout his storytelling, he had also attempted to tell the story of how he and Dean had become hunters in the first place; Sam was not doing that well evidently, as Hope continued to butt in and ask for clarification on nearly every second thing he said.

"You said that our mother told you about me, just over a month ago, but now you are saying that she died when you were six months old and Dean was four…" Hope trailed off, waiting for Sam's explanation.

"It's a long story…" Dean muttered; he was sitting on the chair, across the room from his siblings, enjoying watching how they were interacting with each other.

"She was dead. God's sister brought her back to life as a present for Dean, for helping her and God." Sam stated.

"Or not…" grumbled Dean, as Sam finished his very simplistic version of events.

"God's sister?" Hope quizzically raised her left eyebrow at Dean, who simply nodded in agreement, "Awesome…" she exclaimed, shaking her head from side to side, her eyes wide in amazement at her brothers lives. Sam almost lost it, at her last comment, thinking how much, in that moment, she was like her twin.

Sam started thinking what it must be like for Hope, to hear all of this, their life story, all at once. Sam knew how weird it all was living it, but to hear it – laid out like some bedtime story - must be hard to believe, but Hope seemed to, which meant she already trusted him and Dean, and this made Sam happy.

"And our father?" questioned Hope, looking at both boys in turn; immediately, from the looks on their faces, she knew there would be no reunion there.

"He died over ten years ago." Dean answered this question, and then he continued with the explanation after Hope asked how "He gave his life for mine. Made a deal with a demon this time, not an angel."

Dean looked down at the ground as he spoke. Hope asked for clarification, and Sam continued the story, "The same demon who killed our mother and tried to make me evil. Azazel. He was the reason we all became hunters in the first place…"

Sam's eyes glazed over as he remembered and recalled the story for Hope. For her part, she sat and listened intently, wanting to know what had happened to her bothers.

Before long, Sam's voice trailed off, after he had given the broad outline of what had happened over the past thirty-four years or so.

A silence descended over the room, as all three siblings sat, reflecting on Sam's stories. Foremost in Hope's mind was Dean's deal with a demon to bring Sam back to life, after Jake, one of Azazel's psychic children, had killed him in a fight to the death, to become the leader of Azazel's demon army. It would not surprise Dean that this is the story that Hope would zone in on; the only story Sam had told that involved Hellhounds.

Breaking the silence, Hope began, "So that is what you meant when you asked why the hellhound wanted you; when you had not made a deal?" She was speaking to Dean, recalling something he had said during their fight with the hellhound.

"Yes. It did not make sense that it was attacking me." Dean agreed.

"Is that what happened to our father? A hellhound…"

"No! God no… He didn't have any time. Azazel just took him. No hellhound, just… gone…" Dean was quick to have Hope know that. He did not want her to think of their father, going out like that. Not like that.

"So… how is it that I didn't grow up with you? What happened there?" Hope asked, she was most curious about this and in all of Sam's stories, she had heard no hint at all about why she had grown up alone, with foster parents.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, neither wanting the responsibility of telling Hope this story. Dean had been acutely aware that Sam had steered well clear of any reason for Hope not being in their lives; Dean had wondered how long it would take her to get around to asking about that.

Hope's heart sank, she could tell, just by looking at her new brothers that she was not going to like the answer they had for her. More importantly, she felt a sudden rush of sorrow, a sorrow that seemed to be emanating from Dean and which pierced her soul, like an ice-cold knife.

Dean rose from the chair slowly and made his way over to the other double bed. As he sat down, Hope spun around, on her bed, so that she now sat on its edge facing Dean, quickly she stated, "You don't have to tell me, it's ok. I'll be ok." Hope was trying to abate the sudden, tense and immensely sad feeling that had descended over the room.

Tears sprung to Dean's eyes as he watched his sister being stoic, for him and Sam. He blinked rapidly, not wanting the tears to form and betray fully, how sad he was. "Hope…" he sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling, trying to arrange his thoughts, before looking back down at his sister, "No secrets… As hard as this is going to be to say and as hard as it will be to hear… we can't have secrets… Sam and I have been there, and it never ends well… So we… us three… we start clean, with no secrets, and we promise now that we will never have any secrets that will hurt each other… ok?"

Hope nodded solemnly, biting her lower lip. Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded his acknowledgement of, and commitment to Dean's pledge.

Dean told Hope the story that Castiel had told the boys. He left nothing out. Hope sat on the edge of the bed, taking it all in; staring at Dean with wide eyes that made Dean's heartache in retaliation for how much his mind knew that he was hurting her. When he finished, Hope rose slowly and walked over to the window of the cabin. She paused there, looking out over the scene, thinking about how unfair life was sometimes.

To nobody in particular, Hope whispered, "She didn't want me…"

One would not think that Dean's heart could take any more, but it did; Hope's words, piercing his heart as surely as any blade could. How could he protect her, make her feel loved, when all, it seemed, he was able to give her was more heartache?

A chime sounded then, just a small descending bell-like charm. Hope looked at the watch she was wearing. She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together as she slowly spun around to face her brothers. When she looked up, at her brothers, she answered the implied question, plastered on each of their faces, "Fourteen Hours…"

Her statement brought back a certain reality to such a surreal situation; the fate they had all been sitting around waiting for, the next hellhound attack.

Castiel had been gone for nine hours, on his quest for information, but there had been no word from him. The boys had been particularly conscious of the passing time, hoping and praying that each passing hour might mean another attack was not on the cards.

"Don't worry…" Dean stressed, tripping over himself to belay Hope's fear, "We are ready. Let it come. We will kick its butt!" he said it with a smile, but it was a tiny, weak smile, that didn't make it to his eyes, and which definitely did not fool the other two, "You are not leaving…" he reminded Hope, just in case she suddenly had other plans.

"No… I don't want to… not now… but I do worry, about you two…" that much was very clear by the look on Hope's face as she spoke.

"Well… worry is OK." it was Sam who sympathized, this time, "but just know that we are usually pretty good at what we do and you seem alright yourself – so… I think we will be ok…" All three siblings were trying desperately to avoid the previous conversation; and yet, they all knew that it was by no means finished, nor forgotten.

"And in the meantime?" Hope queried, "I mean… do we just sit here and wait… or…" she sighed as she finished, "what do we do now?"

Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded, just the once, and then looking back at Hope he said, "We go home!"


	8. Chapter 8

"What's wrong?" Dean asked Hope; she had stopped about thirty feet short of the door to the diner.

The three siblings had been on the road for a couple of hours when the boys decided it was time for some food. Having found a diner on the edge of Park Rapids, Sam had parked the Impala and was heading over for something to eat, but something had stopped Hope in her tracks.

In a rush, Dean's mind worked out what was wrong, just as his body felt her fear, "It is ok… We don't have to go in. Sammy can get us some food to go, and we'll eat it in the car, or over by the park we just passed?"

Hope looked relieved by Dean's suggestion; he had worked out Hope was terrified of going in there. Probably for two reasons; one, many people would get hurt if a hound attacked them now, and two, with so many people around there, was a good chance that somebody else would help her and wind up in danger themselves.

Dean and Hope returned to the car, while Sam went into the diner.

Dean's phone rang, "It's Cass…" he told Hope while answering the phone. Dean just listened to Castiel on the other end of the phone. Occasionally he grunted or sighed at the phone, but in general, the car was quiet. When he was done, he hung up and spun around in his seat, to face Hope.

"He has not found anything… yet… but he said he has a few more contacts to track down." Dean was hoping that this would make Hope feel a bit better, but he doubted it, given that it had only served to depress him.

"Who does he even ask?" Hope mused.

"Don't know… Cass is a bit mysterious like that… never really tells you anything. But he does have some ability to come through when it is really needed…"

"You don't sound that hopeful?" Hope asserted.

"Yeah well, we have been here before… Not this exact here… obviously… but bad times, you know… and sometimes Cass comes through, and other times he has the same as us…"

"And what is that?" Hope asked. Dean's eyes lit up as he replied with one word, "Bupkis…" Hope laughed at this, while Dean's heart warmed at the sound. The two sank back into their own thoughts, Dean turning back in his seat, while they waited for Sam to return with the food.

After a few minutes, Hope broke the silence, saying the one thing that Dean wanted to hear, needed to hear, more than anything else, in that moment, "It's not your fault… you know… Mum, giving me up like that… That's not on you… It's on her…"

'How did she know I needed to hear that?' Dean thought to himself, before turning in his seat to face Hope. Hope sat wide-eyed, watching Dean's reaction to what she had said. "It's weird… My mind knows that. I mean, I was a baby, what could I have done differently… but my heart… my heart aches for what should have been, and somehow, it just doesn't seem fair that I got to live with them… just because, I was the boy…" Dean felt pathetic, with his weak attempt at an apology, and he shook his head in frustration. 'Why did he feel this way?' he thought.

"You don't have to apologise… I promise, no secrets… remember… I don't blame you…" Hope tried to appease Dean's need for forgiveness, for something he had not done, something he had no control over, "I blame her…" a small hint of anger, crept into Hope's last three words.

Sam chose this moment to return to the car; he pulled the door open with a loud clunk and slid into the passenger seat beside Dean. Instantly, Sam could feel the tension in the car and he knew what his siblings had been talking about; only one conversation could have bought this feeling back. Not sure whether to speak or not, he just sat there, waiting. The door to the car still open. Dean still watching Hope; Hope chewing on her lower lip.

"Hope…" Dean started, but he didn't know where to go next. What could he say? Nothing… There was nothing, he could say, that would change the past. Nothing… Dean had never felt so hopeless, and then it dawned on him. There was something, something, that Hope needed to hear, something that Sam needed to hear too. "No… You know what, I can't fix this… what can I do, or say, that would ever come close to fixing this? Nothing… and it pisses me off… It pisses me off that; our mother was so selfish… that her choices dictated our lives… That the war between heaven and hell, and all the squabbling little angels meant that we grew up apart. Their needs came first. Well, enough… It's done… We don't need to dwell on it… We need to move forward, from here. I can't keep blaming them, and holding on to the pain they have caused me… caused us… Mum, the angels, God… I hate that our mother chose me, over you,"

Dean looked at Hope, who had tears streaming down her face, shaking his head slowly he continued, "I hate that you have to feel guilty because she wasn't a good mother. I can't do anything about that… but what I can do, is promise you, that I won't let her hurt you again. That you will feel, and know, how much you mean to me. How much I love you. We're family. We stick together… always." Tears were making their way down Dean's face as he finished his last sentence. A silence descended over the car.

Finally, Sam spoke out, cutting the silence open, "I agree with Dean… I'm tired too, of reliving things from the past. Of feeling bad about things that I couldn't control. Sometimes, I all but implode, when I start to think about how unfair our lives seem. Of what happened to us, or what didn't happen," Sam paused, thinking about how his life would have been if Jess had lived, and he had never returned to hunting, "and it takes every ounce of willpower I have, to stop the thinking, the hating, the hurting… and usually… it is something that this goof does…" Sam motioned to Dean, who sat staring at his brother as he spoke, "that snaps me out of it… because I realise then, what I have, in spite of, or because of what has happened; I realise that without all that pain, I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't know this…" Sam motioned to Dean and Hope and then he waved his hands a little, indicated he meant his life in general too.

"I can't take away your pain, any more than Dean can, but I'll be here. For you. Whenever you need, just like Dean."


	9. Chapter 9

"What happened? What time is it? Is it here?" Hope bolted upright in the backseat of the Impala. She had been fast asleep until Dean shut the engine off and the sudden silence had roused her.

"Nothing… Twenty-one hours… No…" Dean was looking in the rearview mirror at Hope, as he answered each of her questions in turn.

"Where are we?" Hope asked as she looked out through the windows of the car.

"A motel, just outside Sioux Falls." Sam chimed in.

"A motel?" the panic was evident in Hope's voice.

"It's ok…" soothed Dean, "there is only one other person checked in here and they are on the other side of the place, and not here at the moment. The dude at reception is on his way out for the evening as well. When it comes…" the 'it' being the next hellhound, which, Dean was hoping was more like 'if' it comes, "we will be alone…"

In truth, the trio were not far from home, but Dean and Sam did not want to drive through another night and had decided to stop here as they passed. The boys hopped out of the car, followed slowly by Hope. Sam had the keys to room 19, so he went over and opened the door.

The room was completely purple, or shades of it. Purple bedspreads on the two doubles, purple chevron stencilled wallpaper, purple carpet with lilac specs scattered through it, purple furniture, purple lampshades… Everything was purple. Well, nearly everything. The love heart shaped mirror that adorned the ceiling over the two beds, was not purple. Sam looked up at it as he entered the room, an eyebrow raised; and a comical look on his face, as he muttered, "No… I have not seen everything… yet…"

"I call dibs on the shower…" Dean cried over his shoulder, as he made his way to the bathroom, throwing his bag on the bed as he passed it. "What… are you five?" Sam muttered under his breath, while he dropped his bag near the door to the adjoining room. At the exact same time, Hope said, "hmmm… a hellhound may be coming, and you are going to have a shower?"

Sam opened the adjoining door to room 18 and had a look in there. It was a purple mirror image – right down to the heart over the beds. Sam backed up into the first purple room and commented to no one in particular, "Now we wait…"

"Story of my life." joked Hope, as she sat down on the bed that did not have Dean's bag on it.

"I'm sorry." Sam offered.

"For what?" Hope replied.

"The bad joke… I guess… I mean… oh hell; I don't know what I mean…" Sam shuddered, "it's just surreal… us, sitting around waiting for something to attack us – you know?"

"Not really…" Hope replied. This news shocked Sam, who quickly stammered, "But you sit around waiting all the time…"

"Not so much. I mean… The hounds are just there. Until Dean helped me, the other day, I haven't had a reason to be waiting for them to attack, in… ages." Hope admitted, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not wishing I could go back to that… not if it meant that two of you weren't here… I just… I'm not used to sitting around waiting for… for something bad to happen…"

Sam shook his head, he got it, what Hope was trying to say, "Yeah, well me neither. I guess we have that in common…" Sam said as he sat down at the small purple table that was on the opposite wall to the beds.

"Sam?"

"Yeah…"

"Thanks!"

"For what?"

"For coming and finding me… When you found out about me…" Sam looked over at Hope, who sat very still on the bed, looking back at Sam, as she continued, "It's been a long time, since someone… cared…"

Dean, who was listening to this exchange from the bathroom, nearly let out an audible cry, his face crumbling at the sound of anguish in Hope's voice. Hope felt, rather than heard, Dean's pain; she puzzled over this new feeling, why was Dean sad now? She could not work it out.

"Well, you are welcome… but you should be thanking Dean, it was he who convinced me that you weren't dead." Sam added from his spot at the table. He was not trying to ignore Hope's confession, but he did not want her to dwell on it; Sam was giving Hope permission to elaborate and talk about what she was feeling, or, move on if she felt she could not.

She could not… "How? How did he convince you that I wasn't dead?" she asked.

"He said he could feel you." Sam paused watching the look on Hope's face; he was glad that Dean was in the shower and could not hear them talking about him. Hope was nodding.

"I get that…" she explained, "I think he was my imaginary friend growing up… Sunny Boy!" Hope recalled her childhood friend, the expression on her face turning to sheer light, as the memories flooded her with love and happiness. Dean, still standing motionless in the bathroom, was remembering his early years too.

"Sunny Boy? That is what Dad called Dean when we were little…" Sam was shocked at Hope having known this nickname.

"I know… He told me…" the look of astonishment on Sam's face, at this latest statement, made Hope continue quickly, "Not that we met…" she started, "but sometimes, when everything was really bad… I would talk to him, and he to me… I could hear him so clearly – as if we were in the same room. I think it was the same when things got truly bad for him. It all seemed so real, but after a while, and everybody telling me that he was just imaginary… after they had checked the EMF that is… it got harder and harder to hear him… but I always felt, like there was someone there."

Dean felt a certain relief, at what Hope had just admitted and he decided that he had heard enough; he stopped listening and got ready for his shower.

Hope shuffled on the bed, to lie down and look up at the mirror, while Sam took in what she had just told him.

"Hmm… Dean was worried you weren't real too… that he had lost it when he was little… had a mental break or something… I think maybe that is why he never told me anything, that and what Mary did to him…" Sam stopped short, mentally berating himself for almost revealing Dean's story, he wondered if Hope had missed it, but the look on her face told him no.

"What did Mary do to him?" came the almost instant question.

Sam did not have to respond, saved by a noise at the door; someone was twisting the doorknob trying to get in. Sam and Hope were up fast, on edge as the countdown approached twenty-two hours.

"Relax…" Dean grinned, as he walked out of the bathroom in a towel, "It's Cass. He just rang…" Dean walked over to the door and as he let Castiel in, he turned back to Sam and Hope and remarked, "Anyways… did you two really think that hellhounds would use the doorknob?"


	10. Chapter 10

"This is stupid… It's been twenty-three hours now… and nothing…" Sam threw the cards down as he spoke. He and Hope were playing poker on one of the beds; Dean was sitting at a small table looking at 'things' on Sam's computer. Castiel had come and gone, just as quickly, with nothing to report.

While the others had taken to waiting – with only an hour passing, since they had arrived in the purple room, Sam was clearly on edge. In part, because he and Dean were usually men of action, but also because he did not, really believe Hope's story. Sam got up off the bed and began pacing around the small purple room.

Sam did not doubt that there had been hellhounds, he had seen the damage the last one had caused. What he questioned was Hope's theory that they were hunting those that helped her; the boys had dealt with hounds before and they had never come across hounds whose mission was almost like haunting a person.

"You don't believe me?" Hope asked the moody Sam, as he continued to pace. She had a hurt look on her face that instantly had Sam backpedalling and Dean, looking up from the laptop, a worried look on his face.

"It's not…" Sam started to apologise, but stopped himself, he took a deep breath, thinking. His dilemma was twofold; speak his mind and find the underlying cause of what was bothering him, or appease Dean's need to protect their sister. "No… not really…" Sam finally admitted. The look on Dean's face was livid; it screamed 'what the hell are you doing?' Sam did his best to ignore him and move forward with his case.

Swallowing hard, Sam stopped pacing and turned to look at Hope, who was not standing beside the bed. He continued, "It's not the hellhound part. I saw the aftermath of that, what it did to you and Dean… I saw it too, well… a dead, it, anyway… I don't, not believe that. I guess I'm just having trouble, believing that these things have been hunting people who want to help you." Sam stopped speaking, and looked at Hope, wanting her to speak out.

"I don't know what to say, to that…" Hope looked at Sam, trying to understand what he needed from her. She ran her fingers across her head, raking her hair back and clasping her hands at the back of her head; her head bowed and her eyes closed, as she took several deep breaths, before she spoke again, not moving, "I don't know why they come, why they ever came… All I can tell you is that for as long as I did the right thing, and stayed away from others, I have had no problems… The link, between them and people helping me… it's easy for me to see, I've lived it…"

Hope sighed, and dropping her hands to her sides, she finally looked up at Sam, "but I guess, it would be hard for others to see… or accept…" Sam started walking towards Hope then, when Dean warned, "Sam…"

Sam knew he had pissed Dean off; he had chosen 'Sam' over 'Sammy'.

"Dean… I am…" Sam did not get to finish his sentence as they all turned to look at the door; there was someone knocking, outside.

Dean got up, walked over to the door, and looked out the peephole. He turned back to Sam and Hope with a puzzled look on his face. Shrugging at them, his eyebrows raised high, he turned back to open the door.

"Deputy…" Dean said by way of greeting as he opened the door wide.

"Good evening sir. I am sorry to bother you at this hour…" Sam looked at the clock beside the bed, it read 8 pm, "but there has been an incident locally, and I have been tasked to move around the motels and check in with everyone staying in the area." The deputy sounded very official, as he stood in the middle of the doorway, notebook in hand, "May I come in?" he asked.

"Of course. Anything we can do to help." Dean replied as he stepped aside to let the deputy in.

Hope was now sitting on the edge of the bed; Sam moved around to the base of the bed, as Dean allowed the deputy access to the room. Sam glanced around the room as he moved, making sure no weapons were on display.

"Is it just the three of you, staying here?" the deputy asked his first question, as he came to a standstill a couple of feet inside the room. Dean quietly closed the door, before answering, "Yes sir. We have room 18 as well, but it is just the three of us." Dean put just the right amount of confidence into the tone of his voice; he did not want to come across as cocky and raise suspicions.

"And your relationship with one another?"

"Jake and I are friends, we work together…" Dean started, nodding at Sam as he spoke, "and this is my sister." He finished up, pointing at Hope. The deputy wrote it all down dutifully, "May I see some identification?"

Dean walked over to the bag on the end of the first bed, to get his ID, while Sam moved over to the small table to find his. Hope simply stood, reached into her pocket, and moving out from between the two beds, towards the deputy. He noticed her coming and moved forward to meet her halfway.

Hope handed the deputy a card from her wallet. He busily wrote down her name, before handing the card back; Hope retreated to the side of the bed, where she had been sitting, but now she remained standing.

Dean, came up behind the deputy, making him turn towards him, before he handed his ID over next, "You're FBI?" the deputy asked, looking over the badge.

"Yes… obviously not on duty right now though…" replied Sam, who had moved over towards the deputy, holding his own ID out as well. The trio now had the deputy surrounded, whether the siblings had done this on purpose or subconsciously, was unclear, but when Dean realised it, he fervently hoped that the deputy would not.

"You have a different surname?" It was not really a question; but Hope, realising the deputy was addressing her, answered him all the same, "Yeah, well… I'm married…" she said motioning to her ring finger, which was now adorned with a gold ring. Dean's eyebrows shot up; luckily, he was not in the deputy's line of sight.

"And, what is it that you do, Mrs…" the deputy looked down at his notebook, "Dayshaun?"

Now Sam's eyebrows shot up, at the mention of Hope's fake last name. It was the same name, as the town, where they had found her.

"I'm a freelance photographer." Hope sounded so confident she almost had Dean and Sam believing her story.

"A long way from home?" again, the deputy used a statement rather than a question; it was a popular technique among lawyers, reporters, police and the like, make a statement and hope the person would just start babbling to fill in the gap, the silence. This time Hope decided not to respond.

"Ma'am…" the deputy redirected.

"I'm sorry… Was that a question?" Hope was playing games now. Dean almost choked, as he tried to stifle a laugh; she was definitely their sister.

"Your licence… it was issued in California. So, you're a long way from home." he repeated. It was another non-question, but Hope chose to answer this one, "Oh that… it's just a base. I travel all over… for the job." she exclaimed.

"I see" the deputy was again writing furiously in his notebook, making sure, he took it all down, "and where are you headed to?"

"Heading from…" it was Dean who corrected the deputy, having recovered from his coughing spat, "We're heading back from a reunion of sorts." The deputy nodded and wrote some more in his book, before asking, "and… are you staying here long?"

"Just the night…" Dean offered.

It seemed tense in the room, even though the three of them had done nothing wrong, they couldn't help but feel vulnerable, being asked all these questions… by the law.

"What exactly happened, deputy?" Sam broke the silence that had developed, as the deputy wrote his notes.

"I am not really at liberty to say. Unfortunately. Just one more question and I will be on my way. Have you been anywhere since you checked in at 6 pm?"

"No. Just here..." Dean spoke this time; the deputy had done his homework, he had the exact check-in time for the trio.

"Ok then. I thank you for your time." The deputy made his way to the door, but Dean beat him there and opened it for him. As the deputy walked through he had yet another question for Dean, "Is this your only car?" motioning to the Impala parked in front of number 18.

"Yes, we are travelling together." Dean replied and then added, "Well deputy, if there is anything else we can help you with; we will be here until the morning."

The deputy nodded and walked over to his cruiser. Without saying anything else, he jumped in and backed out of the carpark, driving away.

Once the vehicle was out of sight, Dean turned back to look at the others, who were standing in the doorway, "What the hell was that about?" he asked, just to receive equally puzzled looks from both Sam and Hope.


	11. Chapter 11

"What is it with you and Dayshaun? That's the name of the place where we found you, right?" The same thought had been bugging Sam since he heard the deputy mention Hope's alias.

"It means, God's gift of hope!" Hope admitted as she watched the emotions roll over Sam's face. Surprise, realisation, understanding and then sadness.

Dean voiced what Sam was thinking, "You didn't have any hope… so you became Chayse Dayshaun… Chase God's gift of hope?" There was deep sadness and overwhelming empathy in Dean's voice as he spoke. Hope merely nodded in agreement, realising, that somehow, her choice of name had caused more pain to both of her new brothers. More than she could have imagined.

Sam broke the doom-filled mood that had fallen over the room, "Let's go get some food. I'm starved…"

A small smile broke across Hope's face, as Dean replied, "I am totally with you there…" For a split second, the thought, of a hellhound attacking, crossed Hope's mind, but she shook it off, not wanting to spoil the sudden 'up' mood that she and her brothers were feeling.

The three siblings made their way out of the motel room. No one really speaking, each unsure of how to recover from their current mood.

Dean was reaching for the driver's door; Hope was behind him, going to the back door when Sam called, "Dean…" Dean looked over at Sam, only he wasn't looking at Dean, but rather he was looking at something over Dean's shoulder. Dean turned slowly, just in time to see a cruiser pull up. Neither Dean nor Sam recognised the man who got out of the car; Sioux Falls was Jody Mills' area, and that, was definitely not her.

Sam came around the Impala, as the Sheriff reached Dean, "Agents…" the sheriff nodded at the boys, to which Dean filled in, "Boulder…" pointing at Sam, the Sheriff shook his hand, "Sinclair" he continued, shaking the Sheriff's hand in turn, "and my sister Chayse." Dean pointed out Hope last.

The Sheriff shook Hope's hand, stating as he released his grip, "I am acting Sheriff Masters. My deputy told me you were here and well… I was kind of hoping I might call on your services?" Dean noted the word 'acting'; this Sheriff was filling in for Jody, he wondered where she was.

Dean and Sam's well-timed nods encouraged the Sheriff to continue, "We have a situation…" he paused, clearly troubled by what he was about to say, "There are five dead at a local church, not a mile from here and it's bad…"

The sheriff let out a large breath, trying to gather himself before finding the words to finish, "We are a small, tight-knit community and everyone here, knows everyone. So… it is hard for us to be impartial and… Well, I was hoping you fellas might look at the scene and tell me your thoughts on what might have happened. Your… impartial thoughts… to help us clarify what we think happened."

As the Sheriff's voice trailed off, Dean simply said, "Of course… We will follow you to the scene."

Once they were in the car, Sam dialled Jody's number. She answered on the fourth ring. Sam put her on speakerphone. "Sam, What's up? Why are you ringing?" Jody asked as she answered her call. Worry was on the edge of her voice; the boys rarely called just to say hi.

"Hey Jody, you're on with Dean, Hope and I," Sam included Hope's name because it seemed like second nature, even though he knew that Jody would have no idea who that was, "We're in Sioux Falls and an Acting Sheriff has just asked us to come and look at a crime scene."

"Masters? Asked for you two… at a crime scene?"

"Not exactly…" Dean replied to Jody's question, "Something happened at a local church, a deputy was doing door to door, checking on the motels and we flashed badges at him. Suppose he went back to the Sheriff and the sheriff decided that he could do with some FBI help. Where are you anyways? How come you didn't catch this?"

"I'm holidaying with the girls…" the girls, Jody was referring to, were Alex and Clair, "Masters is good people, boys, but he doesn't exactly know about your line of work; are you thinking something supernatural is going on there?"

"We don't know Jody," Sam started to explain, "we were just passing through, nothing special happened, he came to us."

"Well did he tell you anything? Should I come back?" Jody interrupted Sam's explanation.

"Nah, Jody don't do that." Dean jumped in trying to allay Jody's worries, "Look, we will sniff around and see what's what. Most likely, it's just a local thing, nothing to do with us and the sheriff is just overreacting, being in charge and worrying, as you do.?

"Ok. You will let me know if it is something more… Won't you?" Jody overemphasised the word, will, making sure the boys understood she wanted to know if something bad was happening in her town.

"Of course we will, Jody." Sam said before he ended the call, he turned his head to face Dean, "You didn't tell her about the bodies."

"Dude, she's on holidays… How often does that happen? We'll deal, and if it's something, we'll let her know."

The trio road the rest of the way to the church in silence.


	12. Chapter 12

"You're not FBI…" the Sheriff pointed out to Hope, as she hopped out of the Impala, in the grounds of the church. The sheriff was trying to indicate that he didn't think Hope should have come, as she had no business there; but also knowing how bad the scene was inside, he did not want to traumatise a civilian, especially a girl.

"She has an eye for detail." Dean put out there, the Sheriff's expression implied that he had no idea why that would mean she should be here; Dean enlightened him, "She photograph's crime scenes… among other things. Her input could be invaluable." Dean's tone told the Sheriff that it was non-negotiable.

"Well, ok then…" the Sheriff said as he turned towards the church steps, motioning that the others should follow.

The church was a very old stone building. It stood proudly on the land, with stained glass windows depicting scenes from the Bible, and a bell tower at its very top. There were ten, rather grand steps that led up to the portals of the church; at the top of the stairs were two rather large, ornate wooden doors that led into the narthex. The door on the left stood open, beckoning them to enter.

As the Sheriff stepped onto the first step, his phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and listened intently to the words that must have begun the minute he opened the call. After half a minute the Sheriff simple said, "Can you hold…" he did not wait for a reply, taking the phone away from his ear as soon as he had finished speaking. "I have to take this. It could be important. Perhaps it is for the best, I do want you impartial thoughts after all, and what better way to get them than to let you go in alone… I have cleared the scene so that nobody will interrupt you."

The Sheriff paused, looking from Hope to Dean as he continued; "The scene is…" he took in a deep breath, looking again at Hope, "horrific… Last chance to back out…"

The sheriff was trying to let Dean know that he really did not think Hope should be going in there, but there was no way Dean was letting Hope out of his sight now; what if she panicked and took off? What if the hellhound attacked? Maybe this was a bad idea after all. How were they going to explain a hound, amongst all this?

"Not a problem, Sheriff. We will have a look and then come back out here. Or, if you return early enough you can come in and meet us." Dean made to move up the stairs, acting much more confident than his mind was letting him feel, as the Sheriff added, "Thank you… Thank you for helping…"

Dean who had looked back down at the Sheriff as he spoke, merely nodded once to the sheriff, who turned, bought the phone back up to his ear and walked off in the opposite direction.

Dean paused at the top of the stairs, and as he looked over to see the mirrored looks of apprehension on both Sam and Hope's faces, he said, "Shall we…" and he led the way into the church.

It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the narthex. It was night outside, but the floodlights, brought in by the police, made the church grounds seem like they had been standing in daylight. Obviously, they had not wasted light on this section of the church; the nave, however, which was just beyond the narthex, was lit up like Christmas Eve, and the trio made their way forward into the nightmare it held.

To say the scene was horrific was not doing it justice. There was blood everywhere, all over the light grey stone floors, the walls and the pews; several of which lay upside down or thrown, broken and busted where they had landed; the scene looked far from a normal, orderly church.

The holy water fonts that had sat on either side of the aisle; now lay smashed, while blood splatter, made curious patterns on the pillars, that held the vast ceilings up, and which flanked the two sections of seating for the church's patrons.

The first body was on the floor, at the beginning of the aisle that led down to the sanctuary and main altar. It was difficult to see where the blood pool it lay in ended, and the red carpet began.

It was a female, though this much was only just recognisable, because of the dress that barely covered what was left of the body. Her arm was gone and the wound at her neck had nearly torn her head off. Her eyes frozen in fear, stared at the trio as they entered the vast room.

"My God…" exhaled Sam, summing up all of their thoughts with those two powerful words.

Dean led the way down the aisle, past the first body and turned over pews. He carefully stepped over the many bibles, kneelers and songbooks that littered the floor, each sprayed with blood.

The second body was about halfway down the aisle, under an upturned pew. Mauled like the other body, several deep scratches on his face, especially around his eyes and then deep slashes up and down his arms and legs. He had a deep laceration, across his chest and belly, which had most likely caused him to bleed-out.

"What could have done this?" Hope finally asked aloud, what everyone had been thinking.

"It looks like an animal attack…" Sam guessed.

"No. The wounds are too straight… clean… like a knife or sword." came Dean's, far to educated, reply.

"But the scratches on their arms and faces?" Sam countered.

"Look at their hands Sammy," Dean paused as Sam looked at the body more closely, "the blood under their fingernails… they did that to themselves… or each other…" Sam and Hope realised that Dean was right; this seemed to be the work of something human or 'like' human, not an animal.

"What then?" Hope asked again.

"No EMF." said Sam, as he played with the device he had pulled from his jacket pocket. It emitted quite evenly paced beeps as the needle on the meter stayed low, "Demon?" he guessed again, as the group continued down the aisle towards the main altar.

"Maybe… but I can't see any sulphur… anywhere." came Dean's reply, as he reached the sanctuary floor. To his left were two more bodies, both slashed like the first two victims. Blood and body parts spilling from both of them. In all of his hunting days, Dean had never seen anything that came close to this level of violence. He took a step up onto the floor of the sanctuary and rounded the altar.

Shocked by what he saw there, he involuntarily took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, screwed his face up in repulsion and turned his head away. Dean shook his head from side to side, eyes still closed, as his mind fought to try and un-see what he had seen there; his breath came hard and fast.

Dean's reaction to what he had seen, stopped him from preventing Sam or Hope from rounding the altar, to see it for themselves.

There on the floor was the body of a teenage boy, impaled on a long sword. It went in through his left eye and exited through the back of his neck. The body was not lying flat on the floor but rather, the sword propped it up, as it were. The boy's intestines were spewing out of his abdomen, blood soaking the length of the altar.

Sam looked as if he may be sick at any moment, his breathing also laboured like Dean's; the smell something he would never forget.

Hope, shocked, stumbled backwards and almost fell in her rush to get away from what she had seen. She righted herself just before she hit the ground and managed to make it to the front pew, on the right of the altar, before her legs lost their ability to move or support her.

The sudden movement Hope made, coupled with her small sobs was enough to bring Dean back from whatever nightmare he had been stuck in, and he came rushing over to Hope's side. He grabbed her and she, in turn, buried her head in his shoulder, as he wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her ragged breathing as she began to hyperventilate.

"Sammy…" Dean called to his brother, who was barely standing beside the altar facing out into the church proper. Sam did not respond to Dean's call, whether he didn't hear his brother or he was incapable of speech right now, he just continued to stand there.

Dean lifted the now almost unconscious Hope up from the pew, and carried her down the aisle, past all the devastation and destruction, back through the dimly lit narthex and out on to the small area in front of the two large doors. He bent low, depositing her on the top step, steadying her to make sure she would not fall. From there he moved own a couple of steps until he could see her more clearly. "Just breathe…" he urged her.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, as the colour came back to her face. Dean told her to stay put, while he went back in for Sam; Dean didn't want to leave her, but he had to get his brother out too.


	13. Chapter 13

"Here..." Dean said as he handed a bottle of water to both Sam and Hope. Hope was still sitting on the top step of the church; Sam was standing off to her left in front of the closed door. Dean walked back down the stairs, to stand about four steps down from Hope and then he turned back watching his siblings closely.

Dean had recovered the fastest, from the scene inside. After he had carried a listless Hope outside, and placed her where she now sat, and returning inside to half carry half drag Sam outside; Dean had gone down to the tent that was set up for the sheriff's department and fetched two bottles of water.

"What did that?" Hope whispered, more to herself, as her mind tried to reason what she had seen, with what she knew and what it looked like.

"I don't know." Dean knew she was not really after an answer, but he felt compelled to speak, to try to reason it out for his own sanity.

"It wasn't a spirit. Demon. Werewolf or other animals, too clean for that…" Dean sounded as if he was rambling, ticking off a list in his mind, "I know what it looked like but… I hope to God it was something supernatural, something other than what…"

"Hey, Dean…" Sam cut him off, as he motioned with a nod, to something behind Dean. Dean turned to see the approaching sheriff.

The sheriff took one look at the three of them and started apologising, "I'm sorry… I should not have asked… should not… should not have put you through this… I am…" he stumbled over his words. Dean walked the last few steps down to be on the same level as the sheriff.

"It's fine…" Dean calmed the sheriff, "A shock, to be sure, but we are happy to keep helping…" in an effort to keep the sheriff's mind busy Dean asked, "What were they doing here?", referring to the victims in the church.

"A parishioner died late last week and his family donated some of his belongings to the church to sell, or give away to anyone who needed them. All five people had been here to sort through the donations. They were all parishioners themselves…" the sheriff faltered, his voice pitching high as he thought of the people in the church.

Dean realised the sheriff was particularly close to these people. "Who knew about this project?" he asked, still aiming to keep the sheriff talking and on point.

"Everyone… Father Francis announced it during the service on Sunday and then asked volunteers to come and help today. A sixth person came but she was running late and…" the sheriff just stopped, mid-sentence, fresh raw emotion breaking out across his body and face.

"She found them?" Dean finished. The sheriff just nodded in reply, Dean continued, "well I'll tell you… I think it looks like murder-suicide. The boy at the front with the sword most likely killed the others, with that sword. Before taking a dive off the altar – killing himself." The sheriff continued to nod as Dean spoke, "but I think you'll find that the scratches on their faces were self-inflicted and… or… they did that to each other before…" Dean's voice trailed off, before finishing with, "You need to check the blood under their fingernails."

"Yes we are…" the sheriff was speaking slowly, as he continued, "You think the boy… had the strength to do that?"

"No, but it looks like it. Maybe he was on drugs or something… Either way, the rage and violence of that… attack… is like nothing I have ever seen. Get his blood tested too." Dean was watching the sheriff closely as he spoke, feeling that he was missing something very important.

"Thank you." the sheriff said, "You confirmed what I…" he broke down then and Dean not sure what to do, moved a little closer to him, but his next works shocked Dean to the core and made him stop in his tracks.

"He was fine this morning." the sheriff was almost crying as he spoke, "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just heading in here to help Father Frances with the sorting. He doesn't do drugs… I'm sure…"

It was clear to Dean, but he asked anyway, "You knew the boy?" the sheriff, nodding as he cried, "Yes… He was my son."


	14. Chapter 14

"Maybe it was a cursed object? Sam suggested to Dean and Hope. This was the first true words he had uttered since Dean had dragged him out of the church.

The three siblings were back in the car, driving away from the sheriff, after giving a few more details and offering their help, if the sheriff needed it.

"What? Like from the deceased estate?" Dean's tone suggested he thought that was a long shot at best.

"Well… sure. We have seen something similar to that before; a cursed object giving someone immense strength." Sam sounded like he was trying to convince himself that this was a possibility, just to bring some reason to what they had seen.

"And the other two victims?" Dean asked. The sheriff had told them of another murder-suicide that had happened just four days earlier. It had looked like the husband and wife had fought hard before she had then killed him and then taken her own life. A knife through her heart.

The sheriff said that that was the worst they had ever seen, before the church. The problem with thinking, that a cursed object linked the two cases was that these two were not members of the church, nor did they have any links with the people in the church.

"We would need to know if they had a connection to the estate." Sam concluded.

Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road. He turned in his seat so that he could see both Sam and Hope clearly.

"So… Are we looking into this… given… the hound situation?" he asked them both. It was now creeping up on twenty-five hours since the Hope had killed the last hellhound. Not yet near the longest time Hope had gone without a hound, but still a long time. The siblings, two of them at least, were beginning to think that another attack might not come.

Sam sat there, not wanting to commit, but also not wanting to walk away. It was Hope who answered Dean, "This is what you do… right? Help people?" both boys nodded, "Well then, we help… Hounds may be a pleasant distraction from this…" she added.

Sam gave a bit of a chuckle at what Hope had said and then he agreed, "We help!"

"Ok then… Where do we start?" Dean asked the pair.

"Well, we need to know everything the sheriff's department knows. We also need a list; what was in the deceased estate, and is there any connection between the other couple and that estate? How we get that info – given that the sheriff has let us go – is another question!" Sam was snapping back to himself, as he spoke, now that he could act on something, he felt more and more in control.

"Do you want me to hack into the department computers?" Hope asked from the backseat.

"What?" Dean spurted out.

"Hack the computers… To get the information we need…" Hope was speaking slowly for Dean to comprehend.

"I know what you said… I just… You hack?" This information surprised Dean and it showed on his face and in the tone of his voice.

"Yes. I can hack. I have had a lot of time to get skilled up. You can do a lot of things with a computer and most importantly you need less help from others when you know how to work one well…" Hope was eluding to how she had survived for so long without being able to rely on other people for help.

"Well, what do you need?" Sam asked.

"This…" Hope replied as she pulled a rugged looking box out of her bag, "and the sheriff department's Wi-Fi."


	15. Chapter 15

"Pull up in front of the building. I should be able to access their Wi-Fi from there." came Hope's command from the back seat of the Impala.

"That's a little bit exposed don't you think?" Dean asked as he watched Hope through the rearview mirror.

"Dean…" an exasperated Hope began, "I think anyone who is anyone, within the department, will be out at the crime scene. I think we'll be ok…" Hope did not look up from her computer while she spoke.

Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot and drove right up to the building, as Hope had suggested. He kept the engine running.

"Good… I have the Wi-Fi, now I just have to…" Hope's fingers flew across the small keyboard of the device she held, "I'm in…" was the next statement she made, breaking the silence in the car.

"In?" this time Sam had questions, but Hope just ignored him as she worked her way through the virtual world.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who was looking back at him quizzically; neither boy could believe their sister was a hacker.

"Ok. I'm in the cloud, now I just need to find the files." Hope mumbled to herself.

"You think there are files already? The cops are all out at the scene…" came Dean's confused question from the front of the car.

"There were techs out at the scene. They would have uploaded everything as it came in… and… I have found them. I'm downloading now." Hope said with finality.

"It's that easy?" asked Sam.

"Sometimes… especially once you get onto a Wi-Fi system that has other computers on it, which you want to search." Hope replied.

"How do you know how to do this?" Dean asked.

"A misspent youth… Ok… we can go now!" said Hope. Dean gunned the engine and made his way out of the lot.

"We'll need a printer." Hope stated as she started flicking through the files she had downloaded. Dean replied from the front, "No worries, I know where we can get one."


	16. Chapter 16

"There is nothing…" grumbled Sam. The three siblings were sitting around the small table in the motel room. Each had a laptop in front of them – as well as several printouts of what the sheriff's department had been able to find thus far in the investigation, into the two separate murder-suicides.

A printer sat proudly at the fourth spot at the table; Dean having procured it using his FBI badge from the not so happy owner of the motel.

A discouraged Hope stood and made her way over to the bed. She lay down, looking at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. Dean shoved his computer away from himself, "Let's review…" he said to the room.

"Ok… Not a spirt – no EMF. Not a demon – no sulphur." started Sam, he was sat with his back to Hope, on Dean's right side, "And most likely not an animal, beast, werewolf or vampire – not to mention any other supernatural being we have ever come across before…" Dean added, touchiness rising in his voice.

"And most likely not a cursed object, unless the two cases are separate… and not linked after all… but looking at these pictures," Sam picked up the crime scene photo's as he spoke and looking them over again, he came to the same conclusion, "they look exactly the same. Same kind of injuries; as if they clawed at each other or themselves, maybe while fighting… and the same kind of ending – death by blade…"

"Yeah well, there is no way it could be a cursed object – not the same one anyway. Given that, there is no connection between the two groups of people; and how did they get their hands on the stuff from the deceased estate anyway? Well, at least we will know by this time tomorrow…" As Dean finished his comment, Sam looked up from his laptop and with a confused look plastered on his face, he asked, "How's that?"

"This time tomorrow, the sheriff's department should have itemised and logged everything on this list," Dean picked up the inventory list of the deceased estate and shaking it in Sam's direction he continued, "and given that this object would have acted pretty quickly to get that level of carnage…" Dean's voice trailed off.

"If an object here is cursed, we'll have another bloodbath by this time tomorrow?" Sam finished for Dean, "So what? We just wait around to see if that happens?"

"Yeah. Well, there is nothing else we can do Sammy…" Dean stood and started walking over towards the bathroom.

"Then what? We go home if nothing happens… or… we what… Wait some more? We are still waiting for this supposed hound…" Sam stopped talking, realising he had gone too far; he turned in his chair and looked at Hope, who was lying on the bed looking back at him, "I'm sorry" he said to her.

"You still don't believe me… Do you?" Hope questioned Sam quietly. Dean, who had stopped in the middle of the room, when Sam had first put his foot in it, continued his walk to the bathroom, listening carefully.

"I…" Sam was going to say 'I do', but he knew that was wrong, Instead Sam rose and walked over to the side of the bed and sat down looking at Hope, he continued softly, shaking his head slightly, "No… I concede the hounds are real that they have attacked before. I'm just still not convinced of the why…"

In the silence of the room, Sam and Hope could both hear the tap running in the bathroom. Shortly it shut off, as Dean finished washing his face.

"Why not?" Hope challenged Sam.

"Well…" Sam began, "because that isn't what they do. Their primary role seems to be the collection of souls from the people who sold out for some deal; and sometimes, rarely, a demon may be controlling them and using them to hunt and kill people. But I don't get why some demon would control them to get at you?"

Hope had no answer to that, so she just lay there looking back at Sam, who continued carefully, "Not to mention – how does the next one even find you?"

"How do they find the souls they have to collect – normally?" Hope countered.

Sam thought about it and then replied, "I don't know, but it doesn't really matter because you, can't be found. Castiel can't find you – so you're shielded."

"I don't know how that happened. But maybe I'm only shielded from him… from Castiel, not from demons or hellhounds…" Hope was trying to find answers for her brother, but honestly, she knew of no answers that would help him understand any better than she herself did.

"Then… why wait around? That is what they do right? Find you and wait?" Sam asked, trying to understand.

"Well… maybe they need to be there – to see people help me – to know who to go after. It is not like collecting a soul – when your times up – your times up… Somebody could help me whenever, and they need to be there, to see that…" what Hope was saying sounded plausible to Sam, and to Dean who had been standing silently in the bathroom, listening.

"How do you know they are there?" Dean finally spoke, breaking the silence, as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"You can feel them…" Hope looked over to Dean as she answered, "And hear them. Sometimes it is obvious. Your hear snorting and growls. Other times you have to be really still and concentrate; in time you can tell there is something there still – watching."

"That's what you were doing when it attacked?" Dean was thinking back to when the two of them had fought the hound together, "You just stood there… waiting… because you were listening, for where it was… you knew where to strike, not because you could see it… but because you could hear it…" Dean's revelation had both him, and Sam impressed, as Hope merely nodded. An awed silence descended on the boys.

Sam broke the silence, "When was the last time one attacked?"

"Seven years ago…" Hope stopped talking as she saw the look of sadness fall over Dean's face. She realised what he was thinking; it had been that long since someone had helped her.

Sam rushed on before Dean could get too upset, "And you killed it?" Hope nodded, "and that is when it took thirty-two hours for the next one to appear?"

"No… it was only a couple of hours that time. Three at the most. It was three hounds ago that took thirty-two hours…" Hope admitted slowly.

"So… in seven years, things could have changed?" Sam asked his sister. Hope, not knowing what Sam was after, just lay there, not responding.

"The demon, who was doing this, could have moved on, or been destroyed or lost his ability to control the hounds…" Dean was talking now; he looked hopeful at the prospect of finding a plausible reason why the hounds may have stopped this time.

"It certainly is a possibility," Sam added, shaking his head in agreeance with Dean's statement, "and maybe a reason why none has shown this time…" Sam sighed as Hope nodded, and then he continued, "Look… I'm sorry I'm sceptical – usually, that's Dean's job…" Dean scoffed at Sam's comment, "Ultimately, it doesn't matter what I think. I am here and I am not going anywhere. I will fight with you… If…" he let the word hang there, for just a second, before, "another one comes…"

"Thanks." Hope said quietly with a small smile on her face.

"No problem…" Sam replied, "now how about you get some sleep!"

Hope let out a breath, as her shoulders relaxed and she nodded at Sam's new plan, "Sam…" she called to him as he stood to move away.

"Yeah" Sam turned back to look at Hope.

"If I have a nightmare… will you wake me?" she asked him.

"Of course, Hope… of course"


	17. Chapter 17

"Nothing!" Dean said as he threw the keys down on the table. Sam and Hope were sitting in a booth at the town's diner, while Dean had made his way out to the crime scene to check in with the sheriff.

"Well at least they didn't all kill each other…" stated Hope, as she scooted over so that Dean had room to sit down.

"There is that…" came Dean's grumpy reply.

The three siblings had spent the morning doing some more research – looking for any connection between the two cases, or any other way a cursed object could be involved, but they had come up completely empty. Thirty-two hours had come and gone, with no fanfare, in fact, the trio had slept right through that countdown. It was now thirty-nine hours and counting. With each passing minute, Dean and Sam started to believe that things had changed, no more hounds were coming; Hope, on the other hand, was probably never going to believe she was free of her curse, not after all these years running.

"They're going with murder-suicide; the only thing that doesn't make sense is the scratches. They think…" Dean looked at Sam intentionally, as he finished, "that the blood under their fingernails is entirely their own. What they can't reason is, why anybody would do that to themselves… Otherwise, the sheriff says they are closing the case…"

"Poor guy… losing a son like that, and with no real answers." Sam was looking down at the table as he spoke. He was frustrated that they had found nothing.

"Yeah well, maybe it was natural after all!" Dean threw it out there, not really believing what he was saying.

"You really think that?" Sam asked as he looked up at Dean from across the table.

"No… I don't… but we got nothing else to go on and short of waiting around, on a chance that something else might happen again, there is nothing we can do. Nothing we can fight." Dean was frustrated as well; he was busy ripping up a napkin as he spoke.

"So what now?" Hope asked.

"We do what we were doing before," both Hope and Sam looked confused – as if they could not remember what that was, but Dean, un-phased by their puzzled looks continued, "We go home!"


	18. Chapter 18

"What is this place?" Hope and Dean were standing on the balcony, looking down into the bunker. Sam was already halfway down the stairs, having gone in ahead of his siblings.

"It is a bunker." Dean answered Hope's question, "A secret control centre for supernatural hunters back in the day; The Men of Letters, they…"

"Wait… What?" Hope had cut Dean off mid-sentence; he backtracked trying to think, on what, she would need clarification.

"It's a bunker…"

"No… not that bit, the…" Hope was trying to get her words out, "Men of letters?"

"You know them?" Dean asked, surprise rising in his voice, as Sam paused near the bottom of the stairs and turned to look back up at his sister – curiosity burning in his eyes.

Hope took a big breath before starting, "The man… who came in the beginning, to show me my destiny. The one who…" she faltered, causing Dean to finish her sentence, "the one who was killed by the first hellhound?"

"Yes…" Hope closed her eyes tightly, remembering was clearly an ordeal for her, "He told me he was a member of the Men of Letters… and that I could trust him."

"You think he was bringing you here?" Sam asked, from the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't know. I refused to go further with him until he told me where we were going – but he wouldn't, he simply gave me this…" Hope held out an object, to show the boys, before continuing, "And, he said I could trust him, again, but when I still refused, he just forced me into the car anyways."

"Well… it is safe to say he was bringing you here…" came Sam's comment, he had walked halfway back up the stairs and was staring at the object that Hope held out.

"Why?" Hope looked from one boy to the other, before Dean replied, "That…" he said, pointing at the object Hope held, "is a key to this place." The three siblings, stood there, looking at each other. Here was another piece of the puzzle; yet it made no difference, in their quest for answers.

"We have all the personnel files on the men of letters. If you want to go through them? Try to identify who he was…" Sam asked his sister. Hope nodded her consent and Sam turned, and walked off down the stairs, calling over his shoulder as he went, "I'll go get them then…"

Dean and Hope stood still, just looking at each other before Dean proposed, "A tour? While we wait." Hope nodded again, and then Dean led the way down the stairs.

Dean and Hope walked through all of the various parts of the bunker, while Dean gave a running commentary on each of the rooms and added in a few of the stories about what Sam and Dean had gone through – in the various rooms. Not the horrifically bad stuff, because Dean was still wary of how fragile Hope seemed at times, but some of the stories, nevertheless.

Sam, in the meantime, was in a storeroom gathering all of the files. He loaded up a box and walked them back to the library – where he started laying them out on the table.

Dean and Hope had reached the corridor to the boy's bedrooms. "My room," Dean stated, as he pointed out his own personal space, and Hope leaned in through the doorway to have a look around, "Sam's down the hall a bit…" he added, pointing in that general direction, "and as you can see… there are… plenty of places for you to pick from if you plan on staying around?" The question in Dean's voice was anything but subtle – as he was trying to be. He desperately wanted his sister to say she wanted to stay here, with them, but he was unsure of her response. He waited, breath held, a sad quizzical look on his face.

"Do you want me to? I mean… it is your home, yours and Sam's…" Hope looked down at the ground, not trusting herself to be looking at her twin; what would she do if he said he did not want her to stay? Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought.

"Of course we want you to stay. I want you to stay. You are a Winchester. Our ancestors are men of letters, so not only do I want you here… you belong here!"

Hope was overwhelmed with relief and joy. She reached up to hug her brother and he hugged her back whole-heartedly, like the long-lost sister she was.

Both were smiling, happy to have found each other, as they walked back down the hall in search of Sam.


	19. Chapter 19

"This one…" Hope pointed at the picture of a young man in a file in front of her, "only he was much older when he came to me…"

Sam picked up the file and read aloud as he flicked through the pages, "Aaron Dara. He was twenty-five when they recruited him; had a lot of confirmed kills…" Sam went quiet, reading to himself, before continuing, "He was pretty good by all accounts. Hurt seriously… only once! Returned to work though. Left the order, when he was thirty-two, to marry his childhood sweetheart, Areena, after being reunited with her on a case…"

Sam stopped speaking as he read on through the file, when he got to something interesting, he blurted, "Ha! She saved his life on that one. This Areena was pretty badass herself. Apparently, she had been hunting for a few years after vampires killed a friend of hers. There is a note here, just can't…" Sam moved the files pages around so that he could read the note clearly, and then he added, "The men of letters suspect the two continued to hunt without their authority and they had been told to stop it a number of times.

"Good for them…" Dean commented, "I like this Areena chick."

"Well, now we know who… but it still doesn't get us anywhere…" Hope sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe Areena is still around; if she was hunting with her husband, then there is a good chance he told her about you. I'll look her up." Sam went to get his computer from his bag, which he had left at the foot of the stairs.

As he got there, he heard an alarm going off in Hope's bag. He returned to the table carrying his laptop and Hope's bag, which he handed to her, "An alarm is going off like crazy in that thing."

Hope reached into her bag and pulled out her chunky little computer, which was still beeping away.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He was sitting at the table to Hope's right, leafing through the Dara file – reading the fine print that Sam had left out.

"I wrote a program to alert me to any potential stories that were similar to the murder-suicide. This way we would know if it happened again." Hope replied, as she opened the computer and started typing away.

Dean and Sam were both invested now; Dean dropped the file and Sam completely forgot what he had been doing, both leaned forward to hear what Hope's beeping computer wanted to tell them.

"So…" Dean pushed impatiently, "did it happen again. Are the sheriff and everyone alright?"

"I don't know…." was all Hope said.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Well… It's not in Sioux Falls… for a start…"

Dean got up and walked around the table to stand behind Hope; as Sam moved to do the same, he read the title of the page aloud, "Eight dead. Apparent murder-suicide near Manhattan, Kansas… Why do you think that is related? That kind of thing does happen. More often than we would like to think."

Hope's fingers flew across the keyboard as she tried to find whatever had set off her alarms. Finally, she sat back and said, "This…" motioning at the screen.

Dean and Sam leaned in to read the tiny screen, "Looks like we might be taking another road trip to Manhattan." Dean claimed after he had read the eyewitness report from the girl who had found the scene; eyes and faces scratched up, blood everywhere and a crowbar had impaled one of them.

"It will take us three to four hours to get there, we should sleep here first and then hit the road first thing in the morning." Sam stated as he looked to Dean for confirmation. Dean nodded and Sam turned and walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Don't stay up all night – you two…"

"Drink?" Dean asked Hope, "Beer; Scotch?"

"I don't drink."

"You don't drink?"

"That surprises you…" Hope said, a smile creeping up on her face and reaching her eyes.

"Well yeah… You, of all people, would deserve a drink." Dean cursed at himself mentally when he saw the shocked look on Hope's face, "I'm sorry… I just meant that what you've been through, would be enough to make anyone drink. I'm making it worse… aren't I?"

"No…" the smile bounced back into Hope's eyes, "It's not that I'm adverse to it – just that I don't… It's hard to access sometimes when you're running…"

"Hot chocolate then…" Dean tried to salvage the situation. Hope agreed readily and the two made their way to the kitchen.

Dean was pretty apt in the kitchen, it was after all one of his favourite places, not that he had a lot of time to spend there. He quickly made the pair, hot chocolate, even managing to scrounge up some marshmallows to float on top. He sat down opposite Hope after handing her the mug of steaming cocoa.

"Sam adores you…" Hope declared to the room.

"Sammy… ?" Dean let out a small scoff.

"Yeah… Sammy… It's so obvious. He would do anything for you. He looks up to you, his big brother."

"Yeah, well… we've been through a lot." Dean admitted, "Him and me… a lot of bad stuff…"

"No good stuff?" Hope asked quietly.

Dean thought about that for a moment, it seemed when you look back and reflect on what has been, that the time was full of bad stuff – too much to mention. Yet, if you really sift through it all – there was a lot of good stuff in there too. Good times, good people, good memories. "Yeah… there was good stuff… Lots of it…" Dean signed, "How is it you knew that I needed to think about that – right now?"

"I don't know. It just felt… like you were stuck… Like, you're worried about what comes next?"

"I guess I am… It just seems like we didn't even get a minute to be…" Dean paused, thinking about the word he wanted to use, not sure, if it was strong enough, "happy…" he concluded.

"Hmm… but that's life, right? It keeps moving on whether you are ready for it or not… We can be happy in amongst all that is happening. Worried too… I am worried, even if it has been nearly fifty hours since… you know… I will still worry, about it coming, about potentially losing this…" Hope gestured at Dean and everything around her as she spoke, "but that doesn't make me not happy. Happiness happens, just as much as crap happens; we just have to make more of an effort to see it – in our line of work."

"So, that's your role in all of this… our family…" Dean asserted.

"What?"

"The Protector, INFJ."

"I'm surprised you even know what that is, Dean."

"What… why? Are you saying I'm shallow… Come on! You've only known me – what… fifty hours or so – give or take…"

"Hmm… shut up and drink your cocoa…" Hope exclaimed.

"Yeah, well… maybe I will…" Dean sipped on his hot chocolate, the smile that lit up his eyes, warmed his heart. All was good in the world; right here, right now… and he was ok with that.


	20. Chapter 20

Sixty-three hours and counting…

Noon.

"You find anything?" Hope asked the boys as they walked into the motel room. She had stayed back at the motel, doing research, while the boys had gone to the crime scene.

"Nada…" Dean said as he plonked himself down at the table, where Hope was sitting.

"They had removed the bodies, but we saw some crime scene photos… and it all looks eerily familiar," elaborated Sam on Dean's behalf, "the local cops were not happy to see us and hence, were not very forthcoming with information." Sam walked over and flopped down on the bed, its old springs squeaking in protest.

"Yeah, well there is nothing on here either. No history in the building. No history in the people – four accountants, two clerks, two secretaries; all upstanding citizens from what I can find. Were there no readings at the scene?" Hope asked Dean.

"Nothing. No EMF, no sulphur. Just like the first two, only in an office building – not a church or family home." Dean trailed off while picking up a local newspaper on the table and reading the article on the front page.

The only sound in the room was Hope's fingers, tapping on the keyboard, and the occasional rustle of the newspaper. Nobody had anything to add, all lost in their own little worlds until, "Oh… wow…" Sam sat up at the tone of amazement in Hope's voice and Dean asked, "What?"

"There is video…" she let the statement hang there. Sam got up from the bed and walked over, standing behind Hope while Dean pushed for more information, "Video… of…?"

"The scene…" Hope was speaking slowly, not really believing what she had found, thinking that if it had been like the first scene – she really did not want to see how that had happened; then again this was the only lead they might have.

"How? Where did you…" Sam was not sure which question he wanted to ask first, so he just rammed them together.

"CCTV… they had camera's set up in their offices… Why a bunch of accountants would want or need, a camera set up – I don't…"

"How did you get it?" Dean cut Hope off; he was worried about what Hope had been doing on the computer.

"Um…" Hope hesitated; she was not sure if Dean was going to be angry or ok with what she had done, "I hacked the company's computer system…"

"Hope…" there was a mixture of both pride and concern; pride that his sister had computer skills and concern that she was going to draw some unwanted attention from another set of authorities.

"It's ok…" Hope registered Dean's worried look and guessing at his cause for concern, she added, "it can't be traced. We're good…"

"So… do we really want to watch this?" Sam asked the question that was on all three minds, "I mean… it was bad enough attending the scene…" Sam was not one to shy away from such things, usually, but there was nothing 'usual' about this case; he could still see, vividly recall, every, last detail about what he had seen in that church. It was hard enough, falling, and then staying, asleep with that in his mind. Did he really need to see how it happened?

"We don't have a choice! There might be something on there that tells us what this is…" Dean was right; they did not have a choice. Hope pulled Sam's computer over and linked it to her own; his screen was bigger and it would be easier for the trio to view the footage.

"Go through to about 2 p.m., that's the time frame the cops are working with…" Dean stipulated as the footage started up on the screen; the footage was time-stamped much earlier in the morning, and Dean did not want to wait around for the action.

Once the footage was at 2 p.m., Hope let it play.

The three siblings watched closely. Hope and Dean sitting in front of the laptop; Sam watching over their shoulders. Nobody moved, all three were glued to the screen in anticipation of what they were about to witness…

"Did you see that?" Hope asked,

"What?" Sam and Dean spoke at the same time.

"A glimmer or something…" Hope's voice trailed off as the people on the screen all of a sudden started to rush at each other.

It looked like they were screaming, but there was no sound on the footage. The two people nearest the camera smashed into each other with such force they both bounced back. With no hesitation, they came at each other again and started wrestling; they were a reasonable match for each other, and rather than one taking the other out, they just caused a lot of damage to each other.

In the background, one of the females picked up a chair and smashed it across the head of some man who was fighting her.

The scene was chaotic.

The people in the office were screaming and fighting with each other; even with the poor resolution of the footage, it was obvious that these people were seriously hurting each other – but the frenzy never ceased.

Sam was watching carefully, he noted that their eyes did not seem to have much damage – anything like the scratches they had seen at the previous scene and in the photos. Then, all of a sudden, the fighting stopped. All eight people just stood there, still screaming, but now they were gripping their heads; then, the scratching began. They started to scratch at their faces and eyes as if they were trying to rip their own heads open.

This went on for a few minutes before the fighting started again; it was more frenzied now and they seemed to have much more strength than before. One of the men suddenly stood up from the ground, and the siblings could see he was wielding, what looked to be, a crowbar.

The man systematically went around to the others and slaughtered them, with the crowbar, before impaling himself.

From beginning to end, the whole thing went for no more than ten minutes.

When the screen went black, a stunned silence fell over the room, until Dean bought everyone back to their senses with two simple words, "Holy crap!"

Sam placed his head in his hands, rubbing his face slowly, as if he wanted to wipe the images of what he had just seen, from his memory. Dean swayed a little before regaining his senses, he pushed himself away from the table and stood up, but once standing he had no idea what to do with himself, so he just stood there. A gloom fell over the room; they couldn't undo that, what they had seen and it had given them nothing. Nothing new to act on, nothing to help them figure out what was happening and more importantly, how they could fight it.

"We should try Cass again…" Dean finally spoke. They had tried and failed, several times, to get a hold of Castiel, since the last time they had spoken; that had been back in Sioux Falls, when they had first arrived, before this… whatever, this, was, had begun.

Sam went and got his phone, he hit the call button on Castiel's number.

Straight through to message bank.

Sam left another message – get back to us, ASAP.

With nothing else to do, and no desire to do anything, the trio slowly drifted their separate ways. Each lost in their own thoughts, or private nightmares, about what had and was, happening.

Nobody suggested lunch.

Or dinner.

Night fell.

Sleep,

Eventually came – if you waited long enough.


	21. Chapter 21

Ring-Ring.

The two, once motionless bodies, in the two double beds, started to stir.

Ring-Ring.

"Dean…" It was Sam, sounding groggy and annoyed, "shut that thing up!"

Dean fumbled around in the dark, as the phone continued to ring. Sam picked up the pillow beside him and buried his head.

"Yeah…" came another groggy voice, as Dean finally found his phone. Whoever was, on the other end, had Dean's attention instantly. He was up on his feet and getting dressed as he continued to give short monosyllabic responses to whatever the other person was telling him.

Dean picked up a pillow and threw it at Sam's head; Sam lifted his pillow to look over at Dean. He could barely make him out in the dark. Dean was motioning for him to get up, "Yes… no worries… we are on our way."

"What is going on?" came yet another groggy voice from the door to the adjoining room; Hope was standing there rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She could see the glowing green numbers on the clock between the two beds, and it read 2:30 AM. Seventy-seven and a half hours. Three days, five hours and thirty minutes, since…

"They have another one." The urgency in Dean's voice had everyone moving at double speed; Sam was up and dressing. Hope returned to her room, presumably to get dressed.

Dean turned a light on and was just picking up his keys when Hope returned, her computer in hand.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked.

"With you!" came her reply.

"We don't have any credentials for you. They are not going to let you in."

"I know… I will stay in the car; I just don't want to stay here. Completely out of it."

Dean shrugged. He was happy for Hope to come. Truth was, leaving her here all alone did not sit well with him either, but he knew what was really going on in her mind. Hope was still thinking about the hellhounds and she did not want to find herself too far away from him and Sam if they attacked. Even though they were now up to what, 'three days and…' with a no-show.

The three siblings made for the Impala. Dean driving, there was only silence in the car as they made their way to the new scene. Sam occasionally gave one-word directions, left, right. Eventually, Dean didn't need any more directions, the red and blue lights lit up the street well; pointing out the crime scene.

The scene was another small office building, fourth floor to be exact. Dean and Sam walked the four flights of stairs in silence, dodging officers and forensics people who were coming and going from each of the floors.

A rookie who was guarding the door, at the front of the main office, stopped the brothers. Dean started to explain who they were, when there was a shout from inside, "Let them in, they're here on my request." the voice belonged to an officer who was at the earlier crime scene the boys had been to.

"Agents…" he said, nodding at the boys as they walked over to him, "Sorry to wake you, but I thought you might like to see the scene, that and help out? My boss is not here…" The officer was talking about his rather rude superior, who had given the boys hell the day before; making it clear that their presence was not welcome.

"Walk with me…" the officer said, as he turned and walked into the suite of rooms. "A cleaner found them about fifty minutes ago." the officer revealed, as he stepped aside to let the boys into the glass-walled conference room.

There was no one else in the room, except the victims. It did not look like the blood spray had missed anything; the chairs, walls, desks and ceiling all splattered with the stuff. One victim was strewn across the floor just metres inside the door, his face all torn up, blood under his nails. He was sliced open across his chest, bone and guts showing.

Sam looked away first, sickened, with a look of disbelief and disgust flashing across his face. His eyes rounded the room until he came to the other body.

That body was pinned to the wall, by what looked to be a long-bladed knife of some kind, "May I?" Sam asked, indicating to the officer that he wanted to go over for a closer look. The officer nodded and the pair moved over to the victim together.

Dean took the opportunity to read for EMF, it came up negative, so he started looking more closely for sulphur, again nothing.

"Was this in here?" Sam asked, pointing to the sword, "it looks pretty old…" The blade was quite wide and oddly shaped as Blades went. The hilt was intricately carved with symbols, some of which Sam recognised as demonic; he needed a photo, "I don't see any fixtures… on the walls…" Sam said, as he stepped back and surveyed the walls for where the blade may have hung before it took up its role in the bloodbath of the conference room.

"It does not look like it was a decoration; a wall hanging…" The officer was looking up at the walls; Sam motioned to Dean to get a photo of the blade. Dean was in the wrong position for that, so he went for distracting the officer instead.

"So, they were working late?" Dean asked the officer, who turned and walked back towards Dean leaving Sam free to take photos on his phone.

"That is the thing. They M.E. puts time of death at around 2 PM, which makes it around the same time as…"

"The other scene!" finished Dean. Things were getting more bizarre by the minute, Dean thought, not for the first time or the last; what the hell, is going on here?


	22. Chapter 22

"They had cameras too!" Hope spoke up from the back seat. The siblings were driving away from the crime scene after having been there for an hour or so. The boys had just finished filling Hope in on what they knew.

Two architects. In their own office building, they owned the whole building, but the bottom three levels were empty now. Apparently, the architects were thinking about expanding or getting tenets at some point in the future. The whole 'incident' had taken place in the conference room. One man sliced up the other, and then impaled himself with a blade that was about 2 feet long, long enough to be embedded in the wall after going through his body and still having another foot hanging out. Sam had not had time to tell Dean about the demotic symbols and now, it looked as if he was going to have to wait a bit longer.

"Hope…" Dean started,

"I know… I know… But what is the point of having the skills, if I don't get to use them…" Hope said from the back seat of the Impala.

"I just don't want anyone coming after us." Dean tried to explain.

"They won't. Nobody will know. I promise."

"Right, let us see this footage then." Dean said as he pulled up in front of their motel room.

Fifteen minutes later, the trio was back inside the motel, in the same position as yesterday, and Hope was queueing up the video to the right time. Suddenly she let it play; time passed. The two men were sitting at the opposite ends of a long oval table that sat in the middle of the room, they appeared to be working on a rather large project - possibly brainstorming; there was no sound on this video either.

When it started, it happened fast. It was as violent, if not more violent, than the fight at the accountant's office. Again, from beginning to end, there were no more than ten minutes.

The siblings sat in stunned silence, before Sam stated, "That blade was not in the room… did you see, one second he was empty-handed, the next, he had a blade; like he picked it up from nowhere…"

Hope moved to replay the footage; she was looking for the bit when there was no blade, as she went back through the video. She let it play on once she had found it.

"There…" Sam said, pointing at the small screen.

"No blade… blade…" Hope replayed the scene and set up a quick loop between the two moments. No blade… Blade… It looped repeatedly as Dean said, "Well now, I would say that was supernatural…"

"Moreover, that blade had symbols on it…" Sam opened his phone to show Dean the images, "Demonic symbols…" he added, as Dean zoomed in on one of the symbols; there were similar symbols, on the 'Knife'.

Hope was replaying the video from the beginning, "There it is again…" she said, as the video moved on; she replayed the section.

"What?" Dean asked, putting the phone down on the table.

"A glimmer…" Hope watched the screen, waiting, "There… she repeated, pointing at the screen.

"I don't see anything?" Dean said; he looked up at Sam who shook his head, suggesting that he had not seen anything either.

"Right there…" Hope pointed it out again after moving back through the footage. She froze the screen, "You see? It's a glimmer, like heat rising in the desert." She looked over at Dean and then back at Sam as she explained herself, still pointing at the image.

Both boys shook their head; they couldn't see anything.

"I am not making it up…" she pushed, "I saw it in the first video too." After looking at each of the boys again, she sighed, because it seemed to her that they did not believe her.

"We're not saying you made it up, Hope. Just that we don't see it." Sam was trying to calm her down.

"Look… It's barely 6 a.m.… We're all tired. Let's crash; pick things up later, after we've all had a sleep. We have a glimmer… and demonic symbols to look into…" Dean was already on his feet and making his way over to the bed, as he spoke; he flopped down onto the bed and was probably unconscious before his head rolled off to one side.


	23. Chapter 23

Eighty-six hours and change.

"What are you working on?" a sleepy Sam asked Hope; Sam was standing in the doorway between the two adjoining rooms, surveying the papers that were plastered all over the table and wall; Hope had clearly been busy in the five hours that he had been sleeping.

"Looking for connections…" is all Hope would say, as she kept working on her computer. Sam noticed that his and Dean's laptops were also open and Hope appeared to be controlling them both from her own device; the girl did have some serious computing skills – not to mention stealth, Sam was sure his own computer had been beside his bed when he went to sleep.

"Find anything?" Sam asked, after watching her work for a few minutes.

"Maybe…" Hope's voice trailed off, she kept working and then her fingers slowed as she looked up at Sam, who just stood there, waiting, an expectant look on his face… "And?" he pushed.

Hope stood up saying, "I don't know if it's anything… but it is a little weird…" Hope pointed at a picture on the wall, "An aerial shot?" guessed Sam.

"Of the first crime scene, here in Manhattan," Hope added, "if we zoom out, we can see the second… See… Here…" Hope was now pointing at the next picture on the wall and Sam followed her finger with his eyes.

"Okay…" he encouraged her to continue.

"Well… Any two points will make a straight line. Right?" Sam nodded in agreement, "It's just, what's interesting about these two points, is that they lie on the same great circle."

Hope looked at Sam keenly, when he didn't say anything she went on elaborating, "They have the exact same line of longitude. If you gave them a position, as a latitudinal and longitudinal point on the Earth, they would both have the same point of longitude."

Sam did not look that impressed, so Hope emphasised her next sentence, "The… exact… same… value… Right down to three decimal places. Moreover, I'm not talking about the buildings either, this is a match to each of the actual rooms within the buildings, the rooms where the incident occurred. I used the schematics – it is an exact match… Exact!"

"Coincidence?" suggested Sam.

"Maybe… Then again, if you go back to the scenes of the first two incidents, just outside Sioux Falls. They both lie on the exact same line of longitude as well."

"Yeah… Well, you just said, any two points make a line?" Sam tried to reason it out.

"No Sam… You don't get it. I am talking, the exact same line… as the one here… in Manhattan…" Hope pointed at the final picture, it was a larger section of the states, and all four scenes were pinned on it and they did run along the same line of longitude.

Sam let out a long breath and shook his head, "What does it mean?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. Just another piece of the puzzle; a puzzle that didn't come with a picture for us to follow." Hope sighed as she thought about how difficult this case seemed to be; and how far they hadn't come with it.

"I think we should check out some of the places on the line; maybe somewhere between the two places here in Manhattan. Maybe what happened in these two offices, happened in another place on the line, but nobody has found it yet? Or… maybe there is something else to find… Like an epicentre. A place of importance; a sacred space."

"You think magic is at work?" Sam asked after hearing Hope's reference to a sacred space.

"It's something we haven't considered, and maybe whatever they were doing arced out, taking out these people in the offices?"

"Where would we even start?" Sam asked; it seemed a mammoth task, looking along the line on the picture.

"Here." Hope pointed to a spot that was exactly halfway between the two scenes from the last two days. "We go here!"


	24. Chapter 24

"A bowling alley? Seriously?" Dean almost laughed, as he picked the lock so that they could get inside. The place was even dingier on the inside than it was on the outside.

It stank of smoke, beer and shoe polish. The place had fallen into some serious disrepair; obviously abandoned some time ago.

The siblings had decided, after Sam had explained what Hope had found to Dean, to go straight to that spot on the map. Hope had not been able to find out what was there, no matter where she searched online, so the bowling alley was a surprise for all three.

When the trio moved further inside the dumpy interior, they found themselves on an elevated platform; to their left was the old kiosk, the menu sign was holding on, by only one corner. To their right, was the service desk, obviously, where you went to hire the lane and your shoes.

The raised platform was as wide as the fourteen bowling lanes, and about four foot above than the lanes, a staircase about six feet across led down to the lanes, and it was in the middle of the alley; there were also a few tables and chairs that scattered the seventies inspired carpet that covered the platform.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Dean asked the other two.

"No idea… I think we'll know it if we see it." Sam's reply sent a chill down Hope and Dean's backs, who both turned to look at each other, sharing the moment.

Sam headed off down the small stairway; he was thinking that he would check out the space behind the lanes. As he walked, he turned the Maglite he was carrying, on so that he could see where he was going; the further he got away from the front of the alley the less natural light there was.

Hope was moving over to the shoe desk; she had seen a doorway behind it that presumably lead to a small back room office. It took some hard shoving, but she finally got the door to budge. To her disappointment, there was nothing to see in there, just a few bits and pieces the previous owners had left behind when they had cleared out.

When she got back outside, Hope could see that Dean was now standing at the top of the stairs to the lower level, so she made her way over to him. At the far end of the lanes, she saw Sam; his silhouette outlined in the light of his torch.

As she approached Dean, something caught Hope's eye. Only it was not really a 'something', more like the air appeared to shift and ripple, like a…

"Oh… My… God…" Hope breathed, fear escalating from within her, "Dean… Sam…" she yelled, both boys turned as one, to look at their sister, the panic in her voice demanding their attention, "We need to…"

Too late…

A piercing 'scream like' noise had all three siblings raising their hands to their ears. Their legs buckling under the pain the noise caused. Then just as suddenly, Dean surged at Hope. He was screaming; Hope almost lost it, with fear, but at the last minute, she sidestepped to the left and took Dean down as he rushed past her.

Hope rolled, 'what the hell?' she thought as she got back to her feet; the constant shrill noise caused her to struggle to find her balance. Hope ran for the platform's edge, hoping to jump over it, to hide from Dean before he managed to get to his feet.

She need not have bothered. When Dean was back on his feet, he only had eyes for Sam. The two descended upon each other; Sam ran along the bowling lanes and Dean across the platform. Dean took the steps on the fly, jumping down to the lanes. A collision was imminent from what Hope could see, but just before the two smashed in the middle of the alley, Dean leaned forward, bending at the waist. He surged forward, with extra force and speed, crashing into Sam; a classic football tackle. Sam launched into the air, his legs lifted out from under him, by the force of Dean's impact. Dean did not waiver, with strength far beyond his usual ability he drove Sam backwards through the air. The two, eventually smashed into the floor, as one.

Hope heard the crash, over the terrifying noise that filled the alley; it was that loud. The boys were both back up and going hard at each other within seconds. Their screams adding to the constant screeching that filled the bowling alley.

'Hell', Hope thought, 'they are going to kill each other'.

Hope ran at her brothers. Sam, on top of Dean now, smashing Dean's face with his fists. Right… Left… Right… Left… Dean's face was barely recognisable due to the damage inflicted by his brother.

Hope launched herself at Sam, knocking him off Dean; Hope rolled over the top of Sam and was just getting back to her feet when the screaming noise in the alley changed. The second noise was lower, more menacing, and more, evil.

The boys both reached their hands up to their faces and started scratching at their eyes. Hope panicked, she had no idea what was happening; she had to get help.

Hope reached for her phone, while trying to stay upright, the noise still really messing with her balance. She hit the call button, "Castiel!" Hope screamed as it was picked up on the other end, "I need your help…" Hope screamed again. She was struggling to focus, the noise was so disorientating, but just as suddenly as it started… it stopped; switching back to the previous noise and the boy started fighting each other again. The problem now, Dean had somehow gotten his hands on a blade.

Hope dropped the phone, as Dean lunged at Sam, who did not seem to have the good sense to run away from the man with a knife. Sam jumped back just in time, as the blade cut through the air, barely missing his abdomen. A blade appeared, as if by magic, in Sam's hand, just as Dean's arm swung back around lining up with Sam's neck; Sam managed to raise his own blade just in time to block Dean's deadly blow.

The two continued to fight, both making connections with the other; they were cutting and slicing into each other, causing a lot of bloodshed. Luckily, the brothers were equally matched, and neither appeared to be getting the better of the other.

As Sam blocked one of Dean's lunges, Sam head-butted his brother and Dean went down hard, losing his blade in the process. Sam raised his own blade up into the air, ready to drive it down into Dean's chest. As the blade reached the top of its arc, and as Sam started to bring the blade back down for the fatal strike, there was a loud cracking noise and Sam crumbled.

Hope stood behind him, a bowling ball in hand. She had swung hard at Sam's head; connecting with all her might.

Struggling for breath and tiring quickly, Hope watched as Dean got up from the ground. No sooner than he was up, he rushed at her, and she had no time to respond. Dean hit her hard, with his shoulder and she went flying across two lanes, smashing hard into the ground. Hope let out a cry, as the pain engulfed her; she fought hard to get back to her feet, terrified at what Dean might do next. As she rose, Hope could see Dean moving over to get his blade, and for the second time since entering the alley, Hope thought, 'he is going to kill him…'

The thought urged her on; Hope took off, running for her only weapon, the bowling ball.

Dean was almost back at Sam when Hope's movement caught his eye. He turned, trying to raise his blade to take her down.

As a bowling ball connected with Dean's head, so too did his elbow with her face.

They both went down.

And nobody got back up.


	25. Chapter 25

Light…

Dark…

A little girl ran across an open field, chasing dandelion spears that bounced along the breeze, shiny and sparkling in the sun's rays, as they pierced the surrounding forest.

Light…

Dark…

A beautiful musical laugh bubbled up out of the girl, as she twirled, her arms reaching out and holding the hands of the little boy who was spinning her around.

Light…

Dark…

The boy, a smile plastered across his face, giggled too, as he grew dizzier and dizzier from spinning the girl around and around.

Light…

Dark…

A dark cloud came from nowhere and plunged the field into a semi-darkness. The spinning duo stopped suddenly, looking at each other. Their hands dropped to their sides. Fear replacing the happiness that had been on both their faces.

Light…

Dark…

Lightning crashed above, as a fierce wind whipped up through the grasses that covered the field. The girl jumped at the cracking sound of the thunder. The boy raised his arms up in fear.

Light…

Dark…

The field was starting to spin now, the wind, thunder and lightning moving as one. The girl screamed, but the boy stood there, blood suddenly dripping down his face. He reached for the girl. She, in turn, reached out her hands to hold his, just as the wind grabbed him and flew him away from her. His scream… barely recognisable, over the noise in the field, "Hope…"

Light…

Too much light…

Hope moaned. Her face crumbling, as the pain fought a war across every part of her body. She tried to move, but then, thought better of it, as the pain jumped to a new level. Instead, she lay there just trying to concentrate on her breathing.

Slowly, it all started to come back to her. The bowling alley, the glimmer, Dean and Sam fighting. The other murder-suicides. All of the memories flooded back into her mind as if she was making a film, only in reverse.

Hope rolled over, letting out a small cry as the pain intensified again. She pushed through it; she had to know if Dean and Sam were alive.

Pushing herself up, so that she was on all fours, Hope could see the nearest body to her; she started crawling that way.

It was Sam.

He was barely breathing.

The effort of moving, showed on Hope's face as she swayed left and right looking for Dean; she saw him further to her left and started crawling over to him.

He was breathing too.

Just…

Blood was dripping from Dean's mouth, and his rasping breaths created bubbles that popped, spilling blood on his chin and upper lip.

Hope struggled to sit beside Dean, her heart beating rapidly, as she desperately tried to calm her nerves and stifle the pain. Panic doubling, at the thought of losing either of her newly found brothers, Hope started going through Dean's pockets, in search of his cell phone.

Hope found it in his jacket pocket. Pulling the phone out, she quickly found Cass's number and dialled, he picked up immediately, "Dean…" came a panicked voice, on the other end of the phone.

"No… It's Hope…" her voice was barely recognisable like she was talking underwater. She coughed, to clear her throat, and gave Castiel her location before she passed out.

Castiel appeared just as Hope dropped the phone, her limp body falling to the ground. Alarm, panic and fear moved swiftly across his face. Castiel moved to Hope's side and reaching down, he placed two fingers on her forehead. Hope's injuries were significant, so it took a little while for Castiel to heal her properly.

"Now them…" Hope murmured when she felt her health and strength return.

Castiel moved over to the boys, Dean first, followed by Sam. Each taking equally long times to heal. Each stayed sitting on the ground after Castiel had healed them.

"What happened here? Who did this to you?" Castiel asked.

The boys looked at each other. They could both remember exactly what had happened, down to the last detail. Eventually, Dean replied, "We did it…" he shook his head as he spoke, not willing to believe what he had done.

Dean may remember everything that had happened, but he could not find a reason for it, "We did that to each other, but I think that Hope was trying to stop… us…" Dean paused, looking at Hope as he continued to speak, "but I tried to kill you too. I did not care who you were, I just wanted to kill… I needed, you to die…" Dean's head fell down, his shoulders slumping, as tears welled up in his eyes. Admitting how he felt during the fight was difficult but he needed Hope to understand because he needed her to forgive him.

Castiel could not find words.

Sam just sat there, his shoulders hanging low also, ashamed at what had happened, and how close he had come to killing Dean. Stopped only by Hope.

"It didn't affect you?" this was not really a question, more like a statement, as Sam tried to recall what Hope had been doing during the incident; he thought Hope looked like she knew something was wrong and that she was trying to keep him and Dean from killing each other.

Silence fell over the alley again, as Castiel and the siblings dwelled in their own thoughts.

It was Castiel, who finally broke the spell, "So, what was it?"

"It felt like…" Dean fought to keep control of his voice; afraid of what he was about to admit, "It felt like I was back… that I was in… Hell."

Dean put the palm of his hands over his eyes and while raising his eyes up to the ceiling, his hands slid slowly down his face until they cupped his chin, meeting in front of his face like a child praying before bed. Dean's eyes stayed closed as he breathed deeply, in and out, barely holding himself together; he had tried to kill his sister and brother. He wanted to look at them, beg for forgiveness, but he was ashamed; he was struggling to forgive himself, how could they even begin if he could not do that for himself.

Hope wanted to move to him, to hold him and tell him that all was ok; she understood that what had happened had not been Dean and Sam; they had not been in control. The problem was that she was stuck on what Dean had just admitted, "Hell?" she said, "Back… In hell…" Hope emphasised the word, back; he had been to hell?

Dean watched the different emotions flashing across Hope's face; Hope started to back away from the boys. Fear, dread, terror, you name it Hope was starting to feel it. As she saw Dean struggling to his feet, she turned and ran.

"Hope…" Dean called, just as Hope turned to run. He had realised that she wasn't taking the 'hell' thing well, and had sensed, too late, that she was about to bolt, but he wasn't quick enough. By the time he was on his feet, Hope was almost to the front door of the building. A split second later Sam realised what was happening and started to scramble to his feet.

Hope was out of the parking lot when Dean got to the front door of the bowling alley; 'man she can move…' he thought as he tried to speed up. Castiel saved the day, flying, as it were, directly into Hope's path. She hesitated as she saw him just in front of her and tried to turn too quickly to avoid him. Instead, she stumbled and fell to her right. By the time she had righted herself, Dean had all but caught up with her.

Dean reached out and tried to stop Hope, she fought him back, swinging wildly with her arms and hands. Dean did his best to fend her blows; he was lucky she was in such a bad head place; he had seen her take down a hellhound if she had been thinking clearly – he would not, still be standing on two feet.

Eventually, Dean managed to grip Hope's arms and draw her into him, in a strong embrace; here, her will weakened and she fell into him, "You went to hell…" she repeated over, and over, while Dean tried to calm her down.

Dean walked Hope over to the bench at the bus stop, and sat down with her, as Sam came up beside them. Sam, Dean and Castiel exchanged worried looks. The small group stayed like that for some time, Dean and Hope sitting on the bench, Castiel standing stoically in front of them, Sam leaning against the light post nearby. Sam broke the silence, "Is she awake?"

"Nah, I think she fell asleep a while back." Dean whispered his reply.

"What happened?" Sam asked though he wasn't really expecting an answer; he was sure Dean didn't know anything more than he did.

"I don't know Sammy… Maybe everything just caught up with her – and us not telling her about hell was just the final straw… We should have told her… No secrets – that's what I told her… We start fresh, and then I go and keep that from her – along with every other terrible part, of every story I've told her…"

"Dean… you were protecting her… we were protecting her. We made that decision, to not tell her all the gory details… she's vulnerable – she didn't need to know that too."

"No… look what not telling her about that did…" Dean looked up at the sky, hoping to find answers there when none came, he sighed and looked back down at Sam, "I wanna tell myself we were protecting her… but in truth – I was being selfish. I was afraid she would take off – just like… just like this…" Dean was shaking his head as he spoke, quietly so as not to disturb Hope, "I was selfish because I wanted her to stay – but you know what – she would be better off away from us…"

"Dean…"

"It's true, Sammy. If the hellhounds are truly gone – and it's been like eighty-five hours now – if they are truly gone, she would be so much better off… without us… without this life… that's what we should be telling her. Instead, I keep stuff from her, so she will stay around because I'm selfish…"

Sam shook his head. He didn't disagree; in truth, Sam thought she would be better off out of their life too, but he wanted her to stay more. He wanted to be selfish, just this once. Just his once.


	26. Chapter 26

Dean sat by the bed, watching Hope sleep. It had been a quiet, long trip back to the bunker. Hope had slept through the entire trip; Dean had carried her to the car. Sam had driven the four hours back to Lebanon. Hope barely stirred. She was now tucked up in her bed, in the room she had chosen for herself, deep within the bunker.

Castiel and the boys had decided there was nothing left to do in Manhattan. This, whatever this was, was way bigger than them and the only thing they could do now, was retreat to the books. To try and find out anything they could, about what was happening.

Dean and Sam had debated over whether to call Jody or anyone else for that matter, but they had eventually decided against it. What could they do, that the boys couldn't? Nothing. They could simply get in the middle of it – as the boys had in the bowling alley, only they might not be so lucky.

Sam had hit the books, as soon as they had returned. Hours later, he too had withdrawn to bed, while Dean sat guard beside Hope. It was just after midnight when Hope stirred.

Dean was asleep but woke instantly as he heard Hope moving. "You ok?" he asked quietly.

"hmm"

"Really… because that's not much of an answer…"

"I guess… I'm sorry… about – everything."

"Hope… You don't need to be sorry. I'm the one who should be… is… sorry. I lied to you – or at least I left out some important information, and that ended up hurting you." Dean sighed before continuing; "Truth is… I've always sucked at being the big brother – I guess I'm, not much better at it now…" Dean turned away from Hope, unable to look at her because of how guilty and low he felt.

"Dean…" Hope stammered; she didn't know what she wanted to tell Dean. Why she ran? No, that was a copout – Hope knew what had happened, she just needed the strength to speak up. "I'm sorry I ran. I ran because there was nothing to fight. Normally I stay and fight, when things get bad. But, this… there was nothing to fight. No bad guy, just, bad stuff… really, bad stuff, that had happened to you and to Sam and I… I couldn't do anything about that. I couldn't fight it, and I didn't like that. I just had to go…"

"You didn't have to do anything about it, Hope."

"I wanted to. You didn't tell me that stuff because you thought it would hurt me – right?" Hope looked at Dean, who nodded, "but that's just it – not knowing hurt more, and all I wanted was to take that pain from you… but I couldn't, I couldn't do anything – so I ran."

"Hope…" Dean dragged his hand across his face, holding back the tears, "I don't want my life to hurt you…" he finally admitted into the silence.

"You want me to leave?"

"I didn't say that…"

"But that's what you're thinking… feeling…" Hope was getting agitated now, fear and apprehension growing within her.

"Hope…"

"You can't make me leave, Dean. That is so unfair…"

"Hope… asking you to stay. That was selfish of me. This world, my life… it's not always good… Dammit…" Dean rose from the chair and paced across the room. He was angry with himself for how he was handling this. Upsetting Hope, when all he wanted to do was keep her safe. "It's been over one hundred hours now, Hope. If these hellhounds were going to come, don't you think they would have? And if they don't come, then… then you would be better off not in this life… It was selfish of me to want you to stay. I did that – years ago – to Sammy. I should never have done it to you too…"

"That's bull…" Hope cried, "It's not selfish… It's family – that's what you told me… Family… that is what we are… Dean, please don't make me go away. You – you grew up with something… Sure, maybe it wasn't ideal, a normal life, but you had Sam… Dad… all I had was part-time guardians. I was their obligation, their duty. They fed me and kept me clean, taught me self-defence and made me go to school, but they weren't family. They were never family. You offered me that – don't take it away now…" A single tear made its way down Hope's face.

Dean walked back over to the chair and sat down, opposite Hope, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed. "How can I ask you to stay, when I know the danger?"

"Don't ask me to stay – ask me not to leave."

Hope stared at Dean, willing him to understand. At first, Hope's statement confused Dean, but then a memory came back to him. A memory from when he was much younger.

 _ **Then**_

 _Dean had been having a particularly bad week. Nothing he had done had been right. His father had given him a very hard time, yelling at him for not doing the right thing by Sam. Yelling him for not doing the right thing in general. At his lowest, when their father was out and Sam was asleep, Dean had reached out to his 'imaginary friend'. She had consoled him in the early hours of the morning. He had felt better when she was there._

 _Like all good things though, she had eventually had to go. Dean had been upset that she would be leaving him and he had begged her to stay – just another a few minutes, an hour at most, but she couldn't stay, she had to go. Of course, this had caused Dean great distress, the thought of her leaving and he, having to return to his horrible week, all alone, until his friend said this; "Don't ask me to stay, because I can't… Not right now, but know this – even though I have to go, I will never leave you. I will always be with you,"_

 _ **Now**_

"Ok…" Dean said with a small smile, "Don't leave…"

"Ok… I won't…"

Dean reached out to Hope, hugging her and she hugged him back. Dean wasn't entirely convinced he was doing the right thing by her, but he didn't want her to leave. Not now, not ever. More importantly, she didn't want to go and he wouldn't force her. Dean would just have to make sure he protected her and kept her safe in his world.

"You need to sleep," Dean said, ending the hug, "and so do I…" he finished, as he rose up and started towards the door.

"Dean…"

Dean turned back to look at Hope, from the doorway.

"Thanks for catching me…"

"Hmm, well you should really thank Castiel for that – he flew at you, if he hadn't, I probably wouldn't have caught you. You are one fast little bugger…"

Dean switched off the bedside light, from the switch at the door, "Sleep…" he whispered into the room, "Sleep…"


	27. Chapter 27

Sam popped his head into Hope's room, the next morning, as he walked past; her bed was empty. Concern swept over him, as he quickly walked to Dean's room. Dean was still fast asleep. Sam went through the kitchen, bathrooms, war room and at each point, his worry started to escalate, after the events of last night.

Dean had popped into his room earlier that morning and told him about his discussion with Hope. Dean was still worried about Hope, and he wanted some reassurance from Sam that they were doing the right thing. Sam understood Dean's concern; it was probably a lot to do with him, Sam, hating Dean for bringing him back into this world. Now Dean worried that he was repeating that mistake, even though Sam knew it wasn't a mistake, anymore.

Sam let out a sigh of relief, as he finally saw Hope standing in the middle of the library. She was holding a cup of coffee and staring at the wall in front of her.

"What you doing?" Sam asked with slight concern in the tone of his voice. Hope hadn't moved as Sam had approached, now she turned slowly towards him and asked, "What is behind this door?"

Confusion spread across Sam's face; was she losing it? Hope was standing in front of a brick wall. "Door?" he asked softly, not sure what to do or say, 'where is Dean?' he thought.

"Um… Yes…" Hope said as if she was talking to a small child, "Where does it go? Is it locked?" Hope's voice trailed off, as she seemed to Sam to be admiring the brick wall.

"You…" he tried to ask delicately, "see a door… here?" It sounded stupid the minute it passed his lips.

"You don't?" Hope shot back at him, surprise on her face concern on his.

"It's a wall…" he began, "a brick wall…" Sam's brows creased, as both his concern for Hope and confusion for what was happening grew.

"No… It's a door… A huge brown, wooden door with intricate carvings and a really old brass knob with an antique looking keyhole under it." Hope stepped closer to the wall, peering at the bricks with such a depth of interest that it shocked Sam. "They're symbols of some sort…" she concluded.

Sam had a wild thought; Hope was delusional, a second thought rushed in after the first, 'and her delusions were very detailed'.

Dean chose that moment to come into the library, he put the coffee pot he was carrying, down on the table and walked over to where Hope and Sam stood, "What you doing?" he asked them both, a slightly worried look making its way to his face, as he took in the Sam's face.

"Oh… Just standing here looking at the door…" the look on Dean's face suggested that he thought Sam had lost it, with his last comment.

"What door?"

"You don't see a door? A big brown one…" it was Hope, "with intricate carvings and brass knob…" finished Sam.

Dean shook his head, clearly puzzled.

"Somebody explain… I am not laughing!"

"Hope says there is a door here." Sam said as he pointed at the brick wall.

Dean looked, from his brother to his sister, both deadly serious, and then back at the wall.

"You see it too?" he asked Sam.

"No…" came Sam's apologetic reply, accompanied by a shake of his head.

"I am telling you I can see it, look here is the handle." Hope reached out and grabbed the doorknob.

Dean and Sam both inhaled sharply, it certainly looked to them that Hope was holding a handle, to a door, only there was nothing there.

Dean walked around and stood on the other side of Hope; the boys now flanked Hope. If they had been able to see the door, they would have noticed that Hope stood directly in front of it while Dean was off to the right and Sam, its left side.

"I wonder if it is locked…" Hope turned the handle, a fleeting thought entered Dean's head that this door should stay shut…

A blinding white light shot out of the door, accompanied by a force that lifted Hope off her feet. She was thrown backwards, smashing into the table before the strong explosive force picked the table up as well, and they both, Hope and the table, covered the short distance across the library, smashing into the wall on the other side of the room.

A nearby bookcase toppled to the floor, crushing Hope under the table.

Not directly in front of the explosion, or whatever it was, the force smashed into the boys as well. They were propelled, in opposite directions, down the length of the room; they slid across the polished floor as they hit it.

The white light that exploded out like a supernova, shrank back down; the room returned to normal, except for the smashed tables, thrown chairs and books scattered around it.

Silence.

Time passed slowly, while nothing moved.

A cough, rippled across the silence, echoing in the space.

Somebody cursed.

The sound of someone moving bounced across the walls.

"Hope…" came Dean's strangled cry as he picked his way across the room, moving tables and chairs as he did so, tripping over the books that littered the floor; all the while calling out to Hope.

Sam struggled to get up, wincing in pain as he put weight on his arm; eventually, he started moving to the same place Dean was heading, their sister.

The boys had to work together to lift the bookcase off the table, which had pinned Hope.

As they did so, Hope groaned, her eyes flickering as if she was trying to open them. The noise made the boys move faster. Dean took his jacket off and used it to stem the flow of blood, which was coming from Hope's temple. Sam kept clearing a space around Hope; together the boys worked to free Hope from the tangled mess, and move her back to the middle of the room where the table once stood.

Hope groaned again but did not regain consciousness. Dean leaned over her assessing her injuries, a trickle of blood slowly making its way down his own face, from a small cut on his hairline.

Sam sat down beside Hope, spent.

"Dean…" he had to force out the word. Dean looked up at his brother with a questioning look on his face, but Sam was not looking at Dean, he was looking over his shoulder.

Dean turned his head around, taking care that he did not move the temporary bandage on Hope's head; as he twisted, the thing, that Sam was looking at, came into view.

It was a door.

A large brown one.

With intricate carvings and a brass knob.

And it was open…

"Well, I'll be damned…" Dean said to himself, to Sam, to the room. It did not matter, he just had to put words to it; so many strange things were happening right now.

The boys sat with Hope until she came around.

Soon, Hope was sitting up, "Do you see it now?" she asked the boys, looking at the door.

"Yeah…" they said in unison.

"What's in there?" Hope asked eager to find out; the boys surprised her with their comments that they did not know, because they had been making sure that she was ok, tending to her injuries. This made Hope feel loved, an unusual feeling; Hope had to avert her eyes quickly as tears pounced, threatening to betray the fact that she rarely felt this way.

The boys helped Hope stand and together they walked over, across the destruction, which was once the library, to the beautifully carved door.

Jaws dropped.

The room on the other side of that door was twice as large as the library, but without the columns. Rich dark black carpet with gold specs throughout covered the entire floor. The vaulted ceiling was backlit, emphasising the many symbols etched across its vast space.

The door entered in the middle of the room; the room spread out symmetrically from a round, low-lying chunky wooden coffee table, with a devils trap carved across its top. On either side of that, deep black leather, Chesterfield three seater sofa chairs, facing each other. Completing the inner circle of seating, two Chesterfield tub chairs in the same deep black leather.

Behind the sofa's and facing into the centre of the room, two large mahogany partner desks, with light brown leather tops; on top of each of these desks, antique brass sculpted lamps with green glass shades, that showered the table top in a pale golden light.

Glass display cabinets covered the wall, directly opposite the door, they were all backlit and showing off weapons, chalices, medallions and antique pieces, most of which the boys could not identify. In the absolute centre of that wall, a large black fireplace, with brass trimmings.

The wall to the left of the door was obscured by massive wooden chests, that stood eight foot tall, all of which were carved with symbols similar to those on the door. The wall to the right of the door and the wall that the door was in, were empty but made of large slabs of what looked like marble.

Slowly the trio walked into the room; they were in complete awe at what they saw.

Dean and Sam walked over to the cabinets, past the deep leather sofas that sat facing each other in the centre of the room. They were examining the weapons. Not picking them up, just looking, it was like being in a lolly shop where all your favourites were at your fingertips, but you did not know what to start with.

Dean looked back at Hope to check that she was all right. He watched her for a minute as she made her way to the far wall, to the right of the door they had just come through. He turned back to continue looking at the weapons.

"This is incredible…" Sam muttered, "A secret room with more weapons, why would they lock these up…" he was talking to himself.

"And books…" added Hope.

A look of confusion flashed across Sam's face as he started to look up, Dean's mind was faster as he worked out where Hope was heading, the back wall, that to him looked like an empty wall. Hope's arm extended out, reaching for the wall in front of her.

"Hope… Don't…" Dean yelled as he started to move towards her; he did not get far as Hope's hand came down on the black leather bound book, with silver edged writing on its spine.

A white light swelled out from the book.

An explosion followed suit.

The force threw Hope across the room, first, she crashed into the desk, the desk then smashed into the sofa; Hope bounced across the two before landing awkwardly in between the coffee table and the sofa.

The explosion caught the boys as well. Sam fell forward, cracking his head on the glass top of the display cabinet, he was standing in front of; the glass shattered as he went down.

The force knocked Dean sideways, off his feet; he crashed into the side of the second sofa and then toppled over onto it, before rolling to the ground.

The white light receded.

Then, nothing.


	28. Chapter 28

"It is warded!" Castiel exclaimed as he examined the door, "It's Enochian. Judging by the remnants, it was very powerful."

"I'll say…" mumbled Sam, as he rubbed his head.

"Is that why you can't heal her fully?" Dean quizzed Castiel, as he gestured towards Hope; Hope was still unconscious, lying on one of the black leather sofas. Sam stood at the end of the sofa, just watching the interaction between Castiel and Dean.

They had called Castiel as soon as they realised the extent of Hope's new injuries, from the second blast. Castiel had gotten there fast but had been unable to bring Hope out of her deep sleep, though her facial injuries were all but gone.

"I don't know." Castiel admitted. There had been times when his powers had failed him, he thought, but they were rare and mostly had been when his grace was lacking in some way, but he knew that was not the case now.

"How did you get the door open?" Castiel asked as he moved into the room and walked over to the bookcase.

"Hope. She just opened it." Sam replied when Dean failed to answer.

"But it was locked…" Castiel was almost puzzled.

"Wait… You knew about the door?" Dean was walking over to Castiel as he spoke.

"Of course Dean. I have been here many times, but that door was always locked."

Dean sighed heavily before he spoke, "Cass… Sam and I didn't know about the door. It just looked like a brick wall to us. Like the one on the other side of the room." The tone of Dean's voice showed how frazzled he was; Castiel stopped short and turned back to look at him.

"You couldn't see the door?" Dean shook his head, no, in response to Castiel's question.

"And the books?" he asked

"Not them either." Dean admitted.

"But Hope could?" Castiel said this mostly to himself, he set off back over to the door and examined it more closely, "Yes… I see it now…"

"See what?" demanded Dean, who was getting more and more frustrated by the minute.

"The Ward was strong and it was twofold. Keep angels out and make sure humans couldn't see it." Castiel said.

"Hope saw it…" Sam said from across the room.

"I don't know why." Castiel offered.

"You don't know jack… Cass…" Dean spat out, he was clearly over it, "You can't heal Hope. You don't know what is going on here. You know squat."

"That's not true. I know the door and bookcases were warded. This Ward, or Sigel, would have sent an angel back to heaven, had they been able to get through the ward that locked the door." Castiel explained.

"That's just it, Cass. Dean and I have been here when those things have gone off before, and apart from the bright and blinding light, they barely affected us; this one sent us flying. Hope more so, because she was directly in the line of fire." Sam was trying to reason it out.

"I don't know what to tell you. The ward is not here, I only have remnants. It was strong magic, old, I know that much." Castiel tried to explain.

"It doesn't make sense…" Dean was looking for a reason now, "Why would the men of letters want to hide this place. They never attempted to hide anything else. Not to mention the fact that we have been through everything, and there is no record of any of this; a hidden room, artefacts, weapons and a library, and they have records for everything. Are we saying that they didn't even know that this was here? I mean… The British sector would have been in here, grabbing it all for themselves if they knew about it… Wouldn't they?"

"This ward was not cast by humans, Dean." Castiel interrupted Dean; he was standing near the books as he spoke, "No human could have cast it. Only an angel and these books…" Castiel paused, thinking how to sum this up, "You're right… These would have helped you. They would have helped me… many times over… some of these books are Enochian tomes. Humans would not have gathered these books and put them here."

"That is great… So we are standing in a room; that no human knew about, which is locked up to keep both humans and angels out, to ensure that a bunch of books would remain safe for…" Dean's voice faltered, "for nobody to use so that we were helpless all of these years. Not to mention that our sister, who is not an angel, is the only one who can see the door and open it… just too nearly get herself killed."

"She saw the glimmer at the alley and on the tapes." Sam reminded his brother.

The brothers stood still, looking at each other, until Sam remembered, "Her destiny…"


	29. Chapter 29

"You all right?" Sam asked Dean quietly not wanting to disturb Hope who was still out cold on the sofa; Dean was just standing there, staring at Hope, when Sam came in after attempting to clean up the library; he didn't get far, the place was torn up bad, like a mini tornado had ripped through the place.

"Come on…" Sam said to Dean, as he took him by the shoulders and led him out of the secret room.

Sam sat Dean down in one of the chairs that had survived the blast, and then he moved to get another chair that he put down opposite Dean.

"I know what you're thinking…" Sam goaded Dean, as he sat down. Dean shook his head indicating that Sam most likely, did not know, what Dean was thinking.

"Come on… Sure I do!" Sam continued, "She… is a freak…" he paused, waiting for Dean to contradict him, and when he didn't, he knew that he had guessed correctly. "That is it… isn't it? You are thinking she's a freak! Nothing new there, Dean… Name one Winchester that has not been a freak at one time or another. Me? No… I have been there… Went nuts, got power, tried to be some demons little pet… You? Do I even need to go through the freakish things you've done…" Dean was watching Sam now as he spoke, "No… I didn't think so, but you know what? So what! Who cares! So, she is a freak! Does it matter… does it really matter? To us? We will do what we have always done, we'll work it out. We'll deal with it and we will come out on top. Like we always have. Like we always do. Saving people, hunting things…" Sam stopped mid-sentence.

"The family business…" a smile made its way to Dean's lips, as he finished Sam's sentence, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Dean's phone rang before Sam had a real chance to cheer him up or bring him out of his current slump.

Dean opened the phone, but before he could speak, the person on the other end had started; all Dean could do was listen.

"Where are you?" barked Dean. "No…" he commanded, "you wait. We're coming." Dean shut the phone and turned back to Sam saying, "It's Jody, she and the girls have a vampire problem."

"In Sioux Falls?" asked Sam.

"No… they're in Wichita…" Dean replied, "You go. I will stay here with Hope."

"You both go… Hope will be fine…" came a weak voice, from the door of the secret room.

Dean bolted up after hearing Hope's voice and ran over to her.

"You can barely stand. You need someone to stay here." Dean said as he caught Hope stumbling out of the room.

Dean walked Hope over to the chair that he had been sitting in moments earlier. He helped her sit down, and then she started talking.

"One of your friends is in danger. You should go help them…" Hopes voice was very weak, "both of you!" she added pointedly, as she looked from Sam to Dean and back again.

"And our sister has just woken up from being unconscious, because of some kind of explosion. One of us needs to stay here." Dean countered; he was not willing to walk away from her now.

"I'm fine…. No danger here…" Hope waved her hands around at the messy, but empty room to make a point of all the non-danger surrounding her.

"Call Cass…" Sam said, "He'll come back and stay with her." Castiel had left in search of answers to both new and old problems that the Winchester trio was facing.

"You're getting me a babysitter?" moaned Hope, but she was okay with that. She did feel off somehow, her strength was returning slowly.

Dean called Castiel; Sam got a few weapons from the war room and went up to the Impala. When he returned, Castiel was standing with Hope; he had just finished trying to heal her again.

"Better?" Dean asked her, desperate for her to be well.

"Yes," Hope replied.

"She's lying…" Hope gave Castiel an annoyed glance, he merely kept on talking, "She's not 100%. I have helped her a little bit more, but she's still not completely healed."

"What can't you heal, Castiel?" Sam asked, walking into the library.

"Nothing." Sam's raised eyebrow gave Castiel reason to second-guess what he had just said, "Sometimes, angels can't heal certain ailments demons have inflicted." Castiel paused, thinking he was finished when he remembered, "and angels that outrank us. We usually can't heal them."

"And Hope… You can't heal her…" Dean added, "Unless… you are saying that the secret room was a demon thing…"

"It was Enochian, Dean…" Castiel insisted, trying to mimic the sarcasm in Dean's voice and failing miserably.

"Right. Whatever you say. So you all good to stay here and look after Hope." Dean asked one last time.

"Yes, Dean… Go and save the world…" this was Castiel's second failed attempt at sarcasm.

"Not the world," Dean said over his shoulder, as he walked out of the room, "at least… not this time."


	30. Chapter 30

Dean killed the engine and coasted the Impala down the incline that led up to the wire fence, which surrounded the warehouse.

"Why can't they ever be someplace nice? Like the kitchen at Circus-Circus or somewhere similar." It was a rhetorical question; Dean was not expecting an answer.

As the car stopped, Sam and Jody got out of the vehicle. Sam made his way over to the wire fence and started cutting a hole for them to get through.

Jody and Dean made their way to the back of the Impala and Dean opened it, propping the boot up with a shotgun. He rifled around until he had three decent sized blades. Dean handed one of the blades over to Jody and shut the boot, before making his way over to Sam.

Sam held the fence open for Dean and Jody to get through, once through Dean returned the favour; as Sam straightened up Dean passed him a blade.

The trio made their way across the rough terrain, to the wall of the warehouse. There was not much by way of cover, as they marched across no man's land; but it was daylight right now so they weren't expecting that to be a problem.

As they got closer to the warehouse, the trio could make out a small door; they had seen it earlier using binoculars. It was only a fire exit, but Dean was sure that the vampires would have a guard posted on the inside, given that it was a weak point in the vampire's lair.

As they reached the door, the trio took deep breaths, preparing themselves mentally for what was on the other side of the door; Jody couldn't resist the chance to warn the Winchesters one more time, "This is probably a trap. You know that… right?"

"Yes, Jody… we heard you the first four times you told us. The thing is… You and the girls are marked now. They will just keep hunting you – unless we do something now…" Dean felt like he was explaining to a child, "What were you doing here anyway? It's not like this is the most exciting place for a holiday?"

Jody didn't answer; she couldn't even look Dean in the eye, suddenly he worked out why "What the? You were hunting… With the girls… Are you out of your mind?" Dean was annoyed at Jody and it showed, even in his strained whisper.

"Well somebody's got to do it…" Jody offered by way of explanation, "we are down quite a few hunters after all…" It was a low blow and Jody regretted saying it before she even saw the hurt look on Dean's face, "I'm sorry…" she said.

Dean shook his head; 'doesn't matter' it implied. He motioned to the others to get ready. Slowly, Dean opened the door. Sam went low looking left and then right, before he moved in, motioning for the others to follow him; the coast was clear.

The trio was now hiding behind a large wall of shelves that stretched from the ground, almost to the ceiling. Luggage covered the shelves; suitcases, backpacks, bags of all shapes and sizes. This place was a storage facility for lost luggage. "Yep… Definitely a trap!" Dean muttered to the other two; it worried Dean that nobody was on the door.

Obviously, this was a weak, if not the weakest point, of their lair and somebody, should have been there, guarding the door. There were two plausible reasons for nobody being there, the vamps had already bugged out, an unlikely event given Jody and the girls had killed two of their brood. Or, the second reason and the one Dean was favouring, this was definitely a trap. These vampires wanted them inside; they wanted a showdown, and that is why there was no one on the door.

It was a trap. Much bigger than either of the boys could have imagined, they just didn't know it yet.

Looking down from above, the warehouse looked like a massive maze, a labyrinth of aisles and lanes, that was arranged with seemingly no rhyme or reason. It was almost dark, like the time immediately after the sun drops behind the horizon, but just before full night descends upon that half of the planet.

The door that this trio had entered through was almost in the middle of the building. Dean used his hands to indicate to Sam that he should go to the left and that Jody should follow him to the right.

Sam took off.

Hunting.

Jody fell in behind Dean and they moved off to the right. At the first opening to the next aisle, Dean indicated to Jody that he would go left here and that she should continue going straight on, down the aisle.

This way, Dean thought, they would have a hunter at each end of the warehouse and one in the middle or thereabouts.

Dean, Sam and Jody moved silently through the luggage-covered aisles. Blades ready. The elaborate trap that had worked well so far, the hunters were all in the building, was about to fall apart due to one, trigger-happy vamp.

A loud whipping crack, rang out through the massive space, echoing, and bouncing around, as the sound smashed into the corrugated iron walls.

The box beside Dean's head exploded from the impact of a shot from a rifle. Dean dropped low and ran, 'What the hell? Vamps with guns' he thought as he took off.

Both Sam and Jody heard the shot, and knowing that none of them was carrying guns, they both came to the obvious conclusion; they were both in some serious trouble and as such, they started to take evasive actions.

Sam was worried; he had no idea if the shot had hit Jody or Dean, nor did he know if they were ok. He kept hunting.

Dean craned his neck to see around the next corner, before retreating quickly, as he realised a vamp was just a few metres away. He thought for a minute; what could he do… Then he realised… Go up.

Dean checked the strength of the shelves. It seemed solid; it was, after all, holding a serious amount of baggage. He scaled it. He moved quickly up to the third shelf, using his arms to hoist himself up, before kicking up a leg to gain a foothold. Once he reached the right height, he started to edge his way around the corner holding on tight, moving as if he were rock-climbing, only sideways,' with any luck' he thought, 'the vamp will not look up'.

Luck was on his side, he dropped down, landing quietly behind the vamp, it started to turn around; too late, Dean's blade swung through a wide arc taking its head off in one clean motion.

One down.

Dean went hunting.

Again.

He rounded a few more corners before he came face to face with another vamp, he raised his blade in panic and realised just in time, it was Sam.

"I got one…" Sam whispered to Dean.

"Me too…" Dean shot back immediately.

Two down.

"That means there is two left…" Dean again indicated where Sam should go, using military-style hand signals and then he moved off in the opposite direction.

Dean was weaving in and out of the aisles, always taking precautions before entering each one, checking what was ahead and behind him. At one corner he looked across to see Jody stealthily creeping along, he hissed to capture her attention and she walked back to him, eyes peeled.

"You get any?" Dean whispered.

Jody raised one finger.

Three down.

"That is three." Dean said before motioning to Jody to make her way down to the far end of the warehouse.

Dean was almost in the middle of the warehouse when he heard a small squeak; a rubber shoe making contact with the concrete floor. He froze, listening carefully he decided that the vamp was not moving. Dean peered around the corner and saw the target about 30 feet away, standing at a crossroads, so to speak, between the aisles. The vamp's back was to Dean.

Dean took a chance and moved quickly towards it. Within ten steps Dean was right up on it, he lifted the blade and swung through; the vamp never saw it coming.

Four down.

"Yes…" Dean called out loud, so the other two would hear, "that is four…"

"Tut tut tut tut…" came the surly reply, and it was not Sam or Jody's voice.

Dean spun on his heels as the voice spoke again, "Didn't anybody ever tell you Winchesters not to count your chickens before they hatched?"

About twenty feet away stood a vamp, and he was holding a gun to Sam's head. Dean's heart skipped a beat, how was he going to get Sam out of this, he thought, and more importantly, how did the vamp know my name?

"I would applaud you Dean, but as you can see my hands are rather full."

The vampires left arm wrapped around Sam's throat. The two were of a similar height but the pressure of the vamps grip around his throat, had Sam at a disadvantage and he was bent forward to alleviate the strain. Sam was not struggling, because of the gun pushed up against his temple.

"Now… I will give you a choice. Unlike the brutal way, you killed my colleagues. I'll let you choose. Your life…" he said, "or your brothers… What is it to be?"

"Dean… No…" gasped Sam, for he knew exactly what Dean was going to say and he was right because a split second after Sam's strangled comments, Dean yelled, "Me!"

"Well now…" the vampire shook his head in a condescending and disbelieving way, "They did tell me, you were one for sacrificing yourself, but I didn't really believe them. Damn, look at you, you didn't even hesitate…" the vampire spoke with a real southern drawl.

"Who… who told you?" shouted Dean.

"tut tut…" came the vampires reply, "that would be telling and I promised I would not tell. Just kill the two of you…" the vampire's voice trailed off, he was letting that thought sink in with Dean. Realising the imminent threat to Dean's and his life, Sam tried to struggle, but the vampires vice-like grip only tightened, cutting off most of his air supply. Sam started to struggle for breath.

"Let go of him you A-whole." Dean yelled, desperately trying to come up with a way out of this one, "Why don't you fight like a man, you prick." Dean spat out.

"But I am not one. Not anymore, and they told me to watch out for you. Tricky little bastard they said." The vampire was starting to move towards Dean, pulling Sam along beside him.

Sam was looking ahead, as he saw Jody hiding behind the next corner; any second now, he realised, they were going to be in line with her, he wondered what, if anything, she had planned. Sam could see that Dean didn't know she was there, he wanted to warn him but voice required air and he was in short supply.

Two more steps.

Jody readied herself.

She had a gun now; the fact was she never went anywhere without it, nowadays. She knew that the gun would do little to hurt the vampire, but she wasn't going to aim it at him.

One

More

Step

The vampire and Sam were in line with Jody, she fired.

Direct hit.

Sam went down, as he let out a garbled yell. The vampire was confused at what had just happened. He thought quickly though and realising what was happening, he used his considerable strength to shove Sam so that he went flying down the aisle, opposite to where Jody stood. In the commotion, Dean started moving toward the vampire and in that same instant, three more things happened.

The vampire spun his gun around and levelled it at Dean's chest.

Jody's blade rose up and swung through the air.

The vampire fired.

Now the bullet did what bullets do. It sailed out the end of the gun with considerable speed, and went straight ahead, never deviating from its path. It hit the body that stood in its way, with such force, that the body lifted up off the ground, arms and legs flailing freely as it propelled backwards; the body slammed into the concrete floor, arms and legs crashing down a split second later.

The vampires head rolled across the ground.

Jody ran to Sam to help him; she had shot him. Shot Sam. She could hardly believe it. Jody apologised repeatedly as she helped Sam up, "It's a flesh wound… I'll be all right, where is…" Sam's voice hesitated, as he moved around the corner and saw Dean, a pool of blood spreading across the floor around him.

"Dean?" Sam called. As he stumbled forward, he winced with the pain of putting his full weight on his bullet-ridden leg.

"Dean?" came the second cry; Sam was much closer now, the scene unravelling before his eyes. Dean. A body. Too much blood. Sam's chest began to constrict, panic and fear seemed to be bubbling up through the ground trying to drown him. As he came up beside Dean, he spoke once more. Quieter now, but just as urgent, and carrying just as much despair, "Dean?"

Dean stared vacantly.

Sam's world started to dissolve around him; breathing became difficult as if a compactor was crushing him. Involuntarily, a small cry emerged from deep within, this noise alone, broke through Dean's own despair and he straightened to look up at the source of the noise. As he did so, the full, and devastating, picture revealed itself to Sam. Lying in front of Dean, the source of all that blood… was Hope… and she was dead.

 **The End…**

* * *

 _ **(Possibly? ~ To be continued? YES OR NO?)**_

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 _ **Do you want more? Then let me know - in the reviews... If there is a desire out there, for more... - then I'll write it...**_

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	31. Chapter 31

**Preview for "The After You" the third book in the Hope Series, for Supernatural...**

* * *

 _ **Then**_ …

The stolen 1971 Imperial LeBaron nearly spun out, as it sped down the highway, fishtailing around a tight bend and almost smashing into a smaller car, which was travelling in the opposite direction. The nineteen-year-old, sitting behind the wheel, cursed lightly as he almost lost control, but he was too scared to worry about the people in the other car.

The car continued barrelling down the highway until the next bend, where it passed a black Impala that was sitting on the side of the road. The boy pulled hard on the steering wheel, taking the LeBaron into a very tight one-eighty turn; the tyres and brakes screamed under the strain of the speeding chunk of metal, stopping and turning on a dime. Small rocks and dust flew through the air, pelting the neighbouring bushland, as the car pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road; the LeBaron was now about twenty feet from the Impala, in a face off.

Before the LeBaron had pulled to a complete stop, the passenger side door flung open, and a smaller, younger boy leapt out and started sprinting back towards the Impala.

This boy circled the car, looking in through each of the windows in turn, as he came full circle he yelled at the other boy, "Nothing… He's not here!"

The other boy, at hearing the cry, turned quickly to the bushland that came up to the shoulder of the road, and started beating at it with his hands; the boy was looking for something, as he pushed, swiped and shoved at the low hanging branches.

"Here!" he yelled back at the other boy, who was doing something similar a few feet from the Impala, "The path is here…" With those last few words, the boy started running down the path, followed closely by the younger boy.

The two boys ran as if their lives depended on it. They were fast and nimble as they stole their way down that path. They placed their feet surely, like seasoned cross-country runners, easily missing the gnarled roots that spouted out of the ground, from the older trees that littered the length of the path. Their arms pumped in time with their heavy breathing. Small patches of sweat broke out on their brows, as the continued to pace their way down the overgrown path.

About half a mile down the path, the area opened up into a small overgrown yard that wrapped around an old house that looked in serious need of repair. The older boy called out, through heavy breathes, "Stay behind me Sammy!" as he scaled the four steps that lead up to the porch.

Here the older boy paused, as he drew a gun from the small of his back. The younger boy's eyes went wide at the sight of the revolver, but he quietly fell in behind his brother. Quietly the boy turned the handle of the door and slowly pushed it into the room. The door let out a soft sigh, signalling anyone, who was close enough to hear, that visitors had arrived.

The older boy cleared the front room with his gun, checking for danger with every turn; he was hyperaware of his younger brother, trying to ensure that he was safe at all times. The pair moved quickly, but ever so quietly, towards the centre of the house where the kitchen sat, tucked away from prying eyes.

Near the door to the pantry, stood another door, slightly wider, higher and much heavier. Eight door latches lined the side of the door and all of them lay open and unlocked. The door itself stood slightly ajar; the light from the kitchen window spilt through the small crack, between the open door and wall, and showered the top two steps in a pool of light. The stairs led down into a darkness; a darkness that whispered to the boys, 'enter, at your peril'.

The door opened back into the kitchen silently, as the younger boy pulled gently on its handle. The older boy led the way into the small space at the top of the stairs, where he paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Taking a very slow and deep breath, he eventually started down the stairs, gun ready, followed closely by his brother.

The boys moved very slowly down the stairs, not wanting to make a sound that may alert anyone to their presence. At the bottom of the staircase, the room seemed to brighten before them, as light from the outside tried to push its way through the grime-covered basement window. The boys turned to their left, entering the far side of the room; a sheet that hung over a trail of rope blocked their view. The rope hung across the length of the room, from the wall to the rail of the stairs.

The older boy approached the sheet and using the gun, he pushed on it, so that he could see beyond. As the scene revealed before him, he took in a quick breath trying desperately to conceal the panic that was fighting to take control of his body.

A man hung from the rafters; a thick rope held the man's arms above his head, while his bare feet barely touched the ground below. The man had no shirt on, and a trail of blood snaked its way down the man's bare chest, as it fell from a deep cut on his throat. A man like figure, covered in tattoos, stood beside the hanging man and he appeared to be drinking the blood of his semi-conscious victim.

The boy raised his gun to shoot, but realised, just as quickly, that at this distance and with how close the hanging man was to 'the thing', he was just as likely to harm the man as he was the creature that had taken him hostage.

Instead, the boy made the quick decision to run at the creature. He took off quickly before the creature had time to realise that there was somebody else in the room. The boy hit the creature square in the side and with some force; he drove him away from the hanging man as he attempted to tackle him to the ground. The creature, however, was too strong for the boy and he merely swung his arm around and caught the boy on the chin. The force of the blow lifted him into the air and he flew backwards, smashing into the far wall of the basement.

The creature started to walk over towards where the boy lay at the bottom of the wall, most likely to finish him off. The younger boy, scared by all that was happening, decided that he had to take action to save his brother. He bolted at the creature, barrelling into its back and knocking him off balance. The older boy saw what was happening and jumped up, running at the creature to take advantage of its weakened position.

The creature fell to the ground with a grunt, as the older boy smacked into his front; seeing the creature fall, he spun around looking for the revolver that he had dropped during the first run at the creature. He eyed the gun; it was not far from the other boy, "Sammy…" he yelled at his brother, "the gun… get the gun…"

Sam made a grab for the gun, just as the creature was getting to its feet. Unfortunately, for Sam, the creature stood up and was standing directly in front of him. Sam thought quickly and realised that he would not make it to the gun before the creature got to him, taking a chance, he kicked the gun towards his brother. The creature lunged forward making to attack him, as the gun slid along the ground into his brothers waiting hand.

Just as the creature reached Sam, the gun rang out, the noise sharp and clear in the small basement. The creature screamed as the bullet slammed into its back, just missing the spine. It stopped, mid-attack, and turned, its eyes were wild with pain and anger. For a split second, it looked like the creature was trying to decide whether it wanted to go after the older boy or whether it would take off; then the creature spun and ran for the stairs.

"Sammy, get dad!" the older boy yelled at his brother as he ran for the stairs in pursuit of the creature that had taken his dad. "Dean…" the younger boy yelled after his brother; whether he was yelling to his brother to tell him that he would take care of their dad, or yelling at him to stop and stay here, was unclear. Either way, Dean ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time.

Sam made his way over to his dad. He pulled a pocketknife out and, trying to support the weight of his father, he started to hack into the rope that held him up. While he was cutting, his father floated in and out of consciousness, moaning in pain each time his body swayed with the movement of the rope.

Eventually, the rope broke, giving way where it was frayed from Sam's efforts and the weight of the man pulling on it. The man fell to the ground, taking Sam down with him. Sam was quick to recover and he carefully took off his jacket and rolled it up to put under his father's head. Just as he was about to get up to look around the room for some water, to clean up his father's wounds, his father came too and grabbed hold of his arm.

Sam winced in pain, as his father's vice-like grip nearly pulled his arm off. "Sammy…" his father wheezed, "We have to find hope…" Sam was confused by his father's statement. He tried unsuccessfully to calm his father and wrench his arm back so that he could help him. John Winchester just grew more and more agitated, crying to his son that they must find hope. "Remember hope, Sammy. Don't let me forget. Don't let me forget…"

John's eyes were wild with panic, as he fought to hold on to the memory of the Djinn's reality-altering hallucinations that he had been so firmly entrenched in only moments before… Moments before John was rudely dragged back to the dark and frightening reality. A reality where he had been forced to forget his only daughter, his son's twin. A reality where he didn't know he had a daughter, where he hadn't been reunited with her.

The Djinn that had caught John Winchester had looked deep into his mind, only to find that two people whom John didn't seem to know, but who had come to help him, had altered his mind once before. Working with what he had been able to find out; these two people had made John forget that he had a daughter. The Djinn spun his special magic to have John remember that his daughter had come looking for him when she had turned eighteen. The pair, united, at last, had lived a very happy existence with John's other two children, Dean and Sam.

When John was dragged unwillingly from this alternate reality, back to the dingy basement floor he wanted more than anything to return to the quiet unassuming life he had finally been able to make with his children. Realising that this would never happen, he needed the next best thing; John Winchester needed to remember what had happened in an alternate reality and as such, he begged his son, Sam, to remind him about it when he came too. Just before he passed out, John asked one more time, "Sammy, remember hope. Don't let me lose hope." Sam just stared at his father.

 _ **Now**_

Sam looked down at his sister lying on the floor in front of Dean. Blood had flowed out from her wound, making wing like patterns around her upper body. All he could think was, 'Hope was lost… Hope was lost.'

Sam fell to his knees, remembering, then he whispered, "Oh my god, Hope, I forgot… I'm so sorry… I forgot…"

* * *

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